


Recalescence Reds

by the_milliners_rook



Series: Alliterative Appeal [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Contains Elements Of We Do Knot Always Love You Novel, F/M, Gen, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-07-25 15:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_milliners_rook/pseuds/the_milliners_rook
Summary: Three weeks after Renji and Rukia’s wedding, Karin dies.Which, you know, is justgreat.





	1. Recalescence Red

“For _fuck’s sake,”_ Karin says, scowling at her dead body. “ _Dammit.”_

It’s not that Karin had thought about the way she was going to die — but if she had, this wasn’t it.

Honestly, she had expected something nobler. Something… better.

Like saving a child’s life at the cost of her own. Like her mother before her. It would have been _something_ along those lines, if Karin had to choose how she went out. She wouldn’t have regretted that, not in the slightest.

Even if she had wanted to _graduate high school_ , and go to university. Even if she had wanted to figure her place in the living realm, fall in love, have kids, living a life well lived before going to Soul Society and…

Well.

Be a _shinigami_.

 _Maybe_.

(Karin had never let herself think that far ahead, truth be told, pushing the thought away because she wanted to live in the moment, focus on the present, when there was so much ahead of her.)

Turns out life’s a bitch and all her hopes and dreams get cut short _anyway_ because three weeks after Renji and Rukia’s wedding — and Ichi-nii provided _plenty_ of photos, that dork — Karin dies.

Not a valiant death. Not a tragic death. Not even a  _good_ death.

No.

Karin dies because she chokes on a _pretzel_.

Which is a _stupid_ cause of death, in Karin’s pissed off opinion.

“Fuck!” Karin curses, glowering at the hateful, _hateful,_ innocuous _pretzel._ “ _Shit.”_

“Holy shit, Kurosaki,” Hiyori says, blinking at her. “Did you just go and kick the bucket?”

Hiyori, who had been _standing there the whole time and did nothing._

Karin should _throttle her._

“What the fuck do you think?” Karin snaps, bruised ego making her temper flare. “Couldn’t be bothered to try the Heimlich Manoeuvre? Didn’t want to use your sandals for the first time in your life?”

Trying _something_ would have been better than doing _nothing._

“Oh, don’t you start,” Hiyori rolls her eyes. “I fucking _tried,_ alright?”

“Did you?” Karin shrieks, heat blaring from her cheeks as she digs her nails into her skin. “Did you _really?”_

It takes roughly ten minutes to die by choking on food. It is not a pleasant experience.

“I _missed,_ you daft twit,” Hiyori retorts, the expression on her face tinged with something Karin doesn’t want to interpret.

Karin looks down, and sees that Hiyori’s feet are bare.

“You don’t miss, Hiyori,” Karin mutters, quietening, weariness taking hold of her, and she doesn’t want to fight, she just wants to curl into a ball and _cry._ “You could hit Shinji blindfolded a million miles away.”

Karin is pretty firmly convinced that Hiyori could lob her sandal in _Karakura Town_ and the sheer force of her aim could make it possible that it crosses the threshold and reach Shinji in Soul Society with a satisfactory smack to the face.

“Shinji’s an exception, Karin,” Hiyori says, gruffly.

 _Or I am,_ Karin thinks instead. Dammit, she didn’t even get to turn _eighteen._

“Karin, don’t you fucking start,” Hiyori barks, looking distinctly uncomfortable with Karin’s shock and anger fading into something a little more uncontrollable, a little more vulnerable. Anger is something Hiyori can deal with, tears, not so much. “Would you really have wanted to die like a bone-head?”

_Bone-head?_

“What’s more _bone-headed_ than _dying over a fucking pretzel?”_ Karin retorts, taking the bait because she’d rather stave off the sadness as well.

“Playing hero, _that’s_ what,” Hiyori shoots back, folding her arms over chest. “You’d rather die over some stupid notion of self-sacrifice instead of _food_. Well, newsflash, Karin, you were going to die anyway!”

“I know, but —”

“You can’t laugh about having died saved someone’s life!”

“But you can _over choking over a pretzel?”_ Karin lifts her eyebrow, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

“If it was me, I’d find it hilarious!” Hiyori folds her arms over her chest.

“Then go choke on a pretzel right fucking now!” Karin fumes. “We’ll see who gets the last laugh!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

A beat, and then, Karin laughs, despite herself.

She feels lighter, somehow. Squabbling with Hiyori has always been fun, and it seems that even as a ghost, it’s not much different to being alive.

“Sorry,” Karin says, calming down. “You don’t have to, y’know, choke on a pretzel.”

“Don’t apologize, Karin,” Hiyori scrunches up her nose. “I thought we had a good thing going on here.”

“We did,” Karin agrees, lightly. “Might have messed up on that one. Who’s going to bother you when they’ve got nothing to do now?”

“Bah,” Hiyori shrugs. “Someone stupid will turn up sooner or later. They always do.”

“Yeah,” Karin says, heaving out a sigh. “I’ll miss you, Hiyori.”

There’s a lump on her throat.

Hiyori won’t go to Soul Society to visit her — no, she _hates_ that place, with a burning fierce intensity that will never fade. Karin knows that. Karin can’t blame her.

Hell, Karin hasn’t visited Soul Society in a long time either, not since —

Well.

It’s been a while, to say the least. She’s dropped by to talk to Rangiku, a couple of times, sure, but mostly, Karin’s been too busy to visit lately.

“I won’t,” Hiyori deadpans, drawing herself to her full height and Karin wonders if she misses the days when Karin really _was_ shorter than her.

“That so?”

“Yep,” Hiyori drawls. “Maybe I’ll say to myself, oh, didn’t there used to be a pesky fly by the name of Karin that used to bother me, but I doubt it.”

“Liar,” Karin says, smiling at Hiyori, regardless. “Hey, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“What, you going to go rogue on Soul Society?” Hiyori snorts, intrigued despite herself.

“I _might_ ,” Karin teases, almost considering the possibility. She lifts her shoulder and drops it. “If my old man did it, and you did it, why can’t I?”

She doesn’t really mean it, and she’s certain that Hiyori knows that, but for a good few seconds, Hiyori lets herself look affected by the sentiment. Like she’s genuinely touched that Karin would even suggest such a thing.

And then the moment passes, and Hiyori’s abrasiveness rears its familiar head.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Karin,” Hiyori smirks, hands on her hips, and leaning back. “Do you really think Soul Society is going to be that careless?”

She pauses, another thought occurring to her.

“Then again, if they agreed to let Shinji be Captain again, they just might be,” Hiyori murmurs, narrowing her eyes. She barks out a laugh, amused at the audacity. “Alright, you might have a chance after all, Karin.”

 

 

Yuzu cries the hardest, though honestly, there are waterworks going on with every single member of the Kurosaki family.

Hiyori has long since disappeared, giving them their privacy under the pretence of being bored, skulking off to who knows where.

Karin’s eyes are wet, and she makes no motion to wipe her tears away, trying to hold onto her sister as best she can.

“It’s okay, really,” Karin says, feeling embarrassed, because even if she’s _mostly_ kind of over it, it still stings her pride.

“How are you holding up?” Ichigo says, quietly, and Karin looks at him, air escaping from her lungs.

“I don’t know,” Karin sighs. “I feel… annoyed that this is how I died. I’m mad that there’s so much I missed out on. But, hey, at least I have a head start about knowing what’s going to happen next, right?”

She wishes that she could meet her mother in Soul Society. Wishes she could have that chance, but knows that Yhwach had made that impossible.

Karin huffs.

“This feels like a joke,” Karin sighs. “My life is over, just like that.”

What would Kaa-chan say, if she’d known.

“There are worse ways to die,” Karin’s old man tells her. “And you died, doing what you loved. Eating.”

“Shut up, old man,” Karin snaps, cheeks going bright red. So what if she _did?_

“I think your mother would be happy with that,” Isshin says, and it really shouldn’t make her chest warm at the thought. “She’d be proud of the person you’ve become.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Karin says, hardly able to swallow the emotions that nearly overwhelm her. They leak out of her anyway, tears running down her cheeks.

“I’m proud of you, Karin,” Her father tells her, and all the emotions she feels burst from her chest, like a phoenix born anew in pure light. “You lived a good life.”

“I’ll come back,” Karin promises, choking the words out that are stuck to her throat. She _means_ it. She _does_. She doesn’t care _how_ it happens, they’ll meet again. “There’s no way I’m going to miss Ichi-nii and Orihime’s wedding, okay?”

“I haven’t proposed to her yet!”

“But you will!” Yuzu says, gazing at Ichigo with doe eyes.

“Well, yeah,” Ichigo mutters, looking away, trying to hide his blush. “Obviously.”

“Ha,” Karin says, grinning at Yuzu. “Told you.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Ichigo says, tetchily, clearing his throat.

“Because talking about the fact that I’m dead is so much easier, Ichi-nii,” Karin snarks, earning a groan from her big brother. “Alright. I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Any last words?” Ichigo says, drawing his sword.

( _Konsou._ Karin remembers that.)

“You guys are the best,” Karin says, utterly sincerely. She’s not afraid anymore. “I couldn’t ask for a better family than you lot.”

“Karin-chan!” Yuzu cries, bursting into tears again.

“We’ll see each other soon. You can count on that,” Karin says, taking a deep breath. “I love you.”

She swallows down her tears and gazes at her family one more time because she wants them to be the last thing she sees.

Karin smiles at them, contented, and then she’s gone.

 

 

Sky’s still blue. There’s a comfort in that.

Waiting is still fucking boring, though.

She’d forgotten about the bureaucracy aspect of it. Had anyone talked about this part to her? Or was it so boring that the information had simply passed right through and she’d instantly forgotten about it?

Either possibly was likely, but honestly Karin has never claimed to be the best at paying attention to things delivered in a lecture.

She suspects not a lot of people liked to remember this part.

And why would they?

Karin’s barely been here five minutes but she’s already bored out of her mind, _waiting_ for the stupid process to work itself out. All she can do is stand, shuffle forward, and watch _shinigami_ run about and ask questions, writing stuff down and handing out tickets before being sent somewhere else.

Really, there’s nothing to do except cloud watch, and the problem there is that there isn’t a cloud in the sky.

 

 

It takes a second to realize that someone is talking. Their voice cuts through Karin’s reverie, and it takes a moment for Karin to figure out that someone is trying to talk to _her._

“What?” Karin blinks, surprised.

“I said,” the _shinigami_ says, impatiently, “Name?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Karin says, nodding. “It’s Kurosaki. Kurosaki Karin.”

“Kurosa — _wait_ ,” the _shinigami_ stops mid-scribble to squint at her. “Wait a moment. Wait a minute. Did you just say — do you mean — that is — Kurosaki — _are you?”_

“You know Ichigo?” Karin says, trying to make sense of the garble.

“No, but,” the _shinigami_ laughs, awkwardly. “I’ve read about him.”

“Oh,” Karin says, and takes a deep breath. Yes, she was _vaguely_ aware that her brother was famous in Soul Society, but it was hard to see him as a celebrity when she’d known him all her life as her goofy older brother with a smart mouth who pretended that he was cooler than he actually was. Hearing that her brother now featured in books was new though. “Okay, cool. I’m his sister.”

“ _Awesome_ ,” the _shinigami_ breathes out, staring at her with wonder. “I never thought the day would come when I would meet Kurosaki Ichigo’s _sister.”_

Was life going to be like this now? Was she going to be overshadowed because everyone had heard about her brother? Saviour of Soul Society, or something like that?

“That’s… nice,” Karin says, after a pause. “Um. Hi, nice to meet you, can I get my ticket please?”

“Of course! Of course! Here you go!” The _shinigami_ says, flustering as his excitement makes his movements shakier. Or maybe he’s always like that, Karin doesn’t know. “The ticket’s more of a formality, these days.”

“Oh?” Karin doesn’t want to ask, but the way it comes out _definitely_ sounds like she’s curious, and the _shinigami_ takes it as his cue to continue talking with her.

“Well, _yeah._ Over the past few years, Soul Society has gotten a lot more invested in maintaining better relations with Rukongai and how to make it more functional and accessible, and while we still have districts, we’re slowly getting better at reuniting families together. It’s difficult work, and there’s still _plenty_ of backlogging to get through, but we’ve improved the system a lot in the past few years _,_ ” the _shinigami_ tells her, and Karin nods along, listening patiently. “But, y’know, it’s still good to have a reminder of the time and place of how you died.”

“I… guess,” Karin says. Like hell she’s going to keep the ticket, crumpling it in her hands and tossing it aside as soon as she gets the chance. Not like she has to tell him that.

“Well, _I_ think so, at any rate,” the _shinigami_ says, cheeks turning pink. He fidgets. “So. Uh. Next question. Do you have family in Soul Society?” 

“Yeah,” Karin says. She might not have anyone on her mother’s side, but. Her father’s side of the family is a different story. Even if she doesn’t know them very well, at least she met them a couple of times. “They’re the Shibas. I think they’re a noble house or something?”

She cringes, because there really is no good way to admit any of her connection. What is her life, really.

“No _way_ ,” The _shinigami’s_ jaw drops and that—that’s exactly what Karin didn’t want to happen. “Your brother is _that_ Kurosaki Ichigo, and your family is _those_ Shibas.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Karin confirms, and hopes that the _shinigami_ doesn’t make too much of a scene. She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her frustration in check. It’s not really the guy’s fault for being irritating, but she just wants this part of the afterlife to be over already.

“Wow,” the _shinigami_ says, still star struck. “You’re so lucky.”

“Yep,” Karin says, glancing up and wishing that even the slightest semblance of a cloud would appear. “Anyway, in the interest of reuniting families and all —”

“Oh! Yes. I should… I should do that,” the _shinigami_ says, turning beet-red. Throughout the entire conversation, his face had turned several shades of red, that Karin genuinely finds it inspirational that his face yet again turned another colour. “Because that’s my job.”

“Mmhm,” Karin says, biting her tongue. The quicker this ends, the better.

Sky’s still blue, Karin reminds herself, exhaling slowly. She just has to focus on pleasant things, and then the whole process will finish sooner or later.

“Alright, I _think_ I know the general area where they might be,” the _shinigami_ says, fidgeting after a moment, after having pressed a few buttons of his tablet. He laughs, awkwardly. “It’s a little bit tricky, since they move a lot, you know?”

“They do,” Karin nods. Every time she’s come to visit, it’s been in a different place, with different markers. But Karin has never minded _that_ much. “It’s okay, though. At least I get a bit of exercise done while I look for them.”

“Yes. Positive thoughts are good,” the _shinigami_ says, nodding furiously. “Alright, here’s where you need to go next…”

Karin listens attentively, nodding when she’s supposed to, and is quietly relieved that the ending seems to be in sight.

“Oh, before you go,” the _shinigami_ says, hesitating before continuing, “if you ever _do_ meet your brother again, and I’m sure you will — you’re his sister, after all, will you do something for me?”

“Do you want his autograph?” Karin asks, somewhat incredulous. She knows that Ichigo helped Soul Society and all, but _still._ It’s so weird to her to see people actually _revere_ her big brother.

“If you would be so kind, _yes!”_ The _shinigami_ says, heaving out a relieved sigh. “Oh my goodness, yes, it would be the _best._ ”

“I’ll… I’ll see what I can do,” Karin says, offering a smile, careful not to promise anything.

“Of course, of course,” he nods, before perking up. “And if he could address it to me? That would be — uh. Oh, wow, I never introduced myself to you, did I? I’m — my name is Adachi Takeru.”

“Adachi Takeru,” Karin repeats automatically, and he nods, beaming. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

 

 

The first time Karin meets her father’s side of the family, Ichi-nii went ballistic.

It was comical, Karin thinks, looking back, because he’d gaped and pointed and stared at their old man in utter disbelief. Like he couldn’t _believe_ that he was related to Ganjuu and Kuukaku.

Actually, Ganjuu had been shouting too.

Apparently, Ichigo already knew them, but didn’t know about their familial connection.

(Goat Chin, at this point, whistled innocuously, avoiding his son and nephew’s pointed gaze while they furiously tried to question him. Karin wondered why she felt so surprised. Even if her old man didn’t _mean_ to hide these things, there was still plenty he hadn’t told them, and probably never would just because he ‘forgot he hadn’t told them’. Or some bullshit like that.)

“We broke into Seireitei using their canon,” Ichi-nii explained to her and Yuzu later, after the initial shock and chaos had settled, somewhat. “That summer when Rukia disappeared…”

“As I recall, it happened _twice,_ ” Kuukaku had smirked, proudly bragging. Karin liked her instantly. “I specialize in fireworks, _cousin_ , but I’ve made a few exceptions over the years.”

To celebrate the family reunion, there had been a whole repertoire of fireworks that night, and Karin had never seen such a dazzling display.

Still, it was weird to hear her newly discovered cousins refer to Goat Face as _uncle_ , though. She’d gotten used to it, but every now and then, it would still catch her off-guard.

There was so much about her father that she’d never know, even if he laughed and scratched the back of his neck in self-consciousness, promising time and time again, that he’d be more open about his past.

They all knew better at this point.

The nostalgia made Karin smile, just as she catches sight of the entrance. This time, there are two people posed in a fight. Last time, it was a girl rejecting a boy’s affections, turning away with her hand on her forehead, the other palm outstretched as if bidding him to stope; while heartbreak existed on that boy’s face.

Yuzu, ever the romantic, adored that design. Karin much prefers the updated version.

“Karin!” Shiruganehiko and Koganehiko greet her as she approaches them. “What are you doing here?”

“Funny thing,” Karin says, shrugging, as she tries to play it off as no big deal. “I kind of… died?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Karin says, and looks back. She supposes it’s not too late to turn back. Talk to someone else. “So I was… kind of wondering if I could live here for a while. If that’s okay?”

She knows it’s not up for them to decide, but Kuukaku and Ganjuu like her well enough, so her chances of staying are pretty good, at least.

 

 

“So what now?” Kuukaku asks her, later, after she’s settled in, regarding her with bright-eyed curiosity. “How are you going to spend your afterlife, cousin?”

“I don’t know,” Karin says. She could go to _Shinigami Academy_ , she supposes. Or maybe she could just stay in Rukongai for a couple of years.

“You just died,” Kuukaku shrugs, her mouth curved in a half-smile. “It’s okay not to know, and just exist for a while.”

“I guess.”

“Are you in a rush to go somewhere?” Kuukaku asks, tilting her head.

“Not really,” Karin sighs. In the back of her mind, she’s sure that her family will visit her again soon — Urahara’s set up a passage from the living realm to Rukongai before, and who knows? Maybe Kuukaku will send word to Yoruichi that she’s here, and the separation between the two realms won’t feel so bad.

“Then just stay here for a while until you figure out what you want to do. You lived for a half a second, it’s okay not to know,” Kuukaku says, and it shouldn’t take Karin by surprise, that sentiment, but it does. She knows that souls have longer lifespans in Seireitei, she’s known that for quite some time, but it’s easy to forget that when they look like as if they’re regular humans living in the mortal realm and have human ages.

But they’re souls, and so is Karin, and that… going to take some getting used to.

“You’re family, okay?” Kuukaku reminds her, gentleness in her demeanour. “So take all the time in the world. It’s alright, Karin.”

 It’s alright.

Karin tells herself that it’s alright to breathe.

It’s alright. 


	2. Breathe Byzantium

They give her a week.

“What happened to _take all the time in the world?”_ Karin asks, acerbically, raising her eyebrow because _what the hell?_ “What happened to _it’s alright, Karin?”_

“That was before it was apparent that you intended to do nothing but _mope,_ ” Kuukaku deadpans, not in the mood for Karin’s objections. “If you want to feel sorry for yourself, that’s fine by me, but there are better ways to do it than staying in your room and sulking.”

“I am not _sulking!_ ” Karin protests, taking offence to that. She doesn’t like the sound of that. Even if it _was_ what she was doing, which it _wasn’t_ , she’d have rather Kuukaku use a different word than _sulking_.

She is not sulking. She is not moping either. Karin doesn’t appreciate Kuukaku describing her as such.

“ _Really?_ ” Kuukaku asks, flatly, completely unconvinced. “What do you call what you’ve been doing, then?”

“Um,” Karin hesitates, feeling oddly caught out, because she’s not sure how to define it herself. Maybe adjusting? But that’s not quite right, because Karin doesn’t feel like she’s adjusted just yet — even if it is a process. “Well, I don’t know but —”

“You’re sulking,” Kuukaku says, rolling her eyes, and Karin snaps her jaw shut, feeling like she’s lost that round, even if she’s not going to admit it out loud. Kuukaku regards her for a moment, softening her gaze. “I get it, Karin. But you gotta do something else. Anything. Terrorize the villagers _._ Take a goddamn walk. Pester Ganjuu for a while. I don’t care. Just don’t coop yourself up.”

“It’s only been a week,” Karin mutters, cheeks heating up. She hates feeling out of her depth, and being newly dead isn’t helping. “It’s not _that_ long.”

“It’s long enough,” Kuukaku insists, all but grabbing Karin and shoving her outside to do whatever. Karin is left standing in shock, as Kuukaku slams the door shut behind her.

“And don’t come back until it’s supper time!”

“Kuukaku!”

 

 

_Fuck._

There really isn’t much to do, is the thing.

Still, Karin takes the hint and starts walking to the nearest district, deciding to start small and get to know people. Maybe talking will help and give her much needed perspective; after all, she’s bound to meet someone who understands the way she’s feeling. This is Rukongai, a place where people come and go as they wait to get reincarnated into the next life, a place where families are lost and found or formed with new faces, new friends. She wonders if talking to someone will be enough to reignite hope, to let her grief lessen, and for her to look towards the future.

Karin has never been so far from her family. She misses them dreadfully.

It’s not that she doesn’t consider Ganjuu and Kuukaku as part of her family, she _does_ , but she didn’t grow up with them. Karin didn’t spend her entire life bickering and laughing and getting annoyed at them like she had with Ichi-nii, Yuzu, and her old man.

Kuukaku and Ganjuu have lived in Soul Society all their life. They don’t know what dying feels like.

And that makes all the difference.

Karin was born in the living world. She was alive and now she’s dead. She tries to remind herself of the facts. She knows that there’s a way for Ichi-nii and Yuzu and Goat Face to visit her, without having to die, but she doesn’t know if she can do the same without becoming a _shinigami._ What if she could? She’d be a spirit in the living world, right? Unseen by most people, and a potential snack for Hollows, if she isn’t careful.

She shakes her head, trying to dispel those thoughts. Maybe it’s not worth thinking about, and it’s better to convince herself that the closest she’ll get to the living world these days is by reminiscing, and clinging to her memories.

(If she just waits — no matter how many years — one day she’ll fade away and reincarnate into the living world. That’s how it works, right?)

Karin is a soul. And one day, her family will be too.

If she waits long enough, there’ll be family reunion. Even though Karin knows that there are ways to cross into the spirit world without dying, some part of her is worried that their visit might be permanent. Even if she didn’t live a long life — it doesn’t mean she wants their life to be cut short either.

According to the _shinigami_ , they’re working on ways to bring families together, after years of separation. In that respect, Karin’s already luckier than most because her family already know where to go: the Shiba household is their lighthouse, waiting for them in the distance, ready to guide them to each other when they cross over.

That’s the thing, really.

She misses the ones she loves in the living world, and the majority of the people of Rukongai understand that grief. They can see it on her face, recognizing some expression that Karin herself doesn’t understand, but somehow Karin ends up talking to a boy named Hiroto and venting about it.

Doesn’t take much apparently, but even Karin can agree later that it’s good to get it out in the open and talk to people who understand what she’s going through. Somehow, time flies without her realizing it, and Ganjuu is calling her name and telling her that if she’s late for dinner, she’ll be in trouble.

Well, needless to say, even though Karin’s happy to have made a friend — she’s not one to tempt fate when it comes to matters of food.

“Well, look at you,” Kuukaku peers at her with a smirk; satisfied by what she sees when Ganjuu and Karin return to the household. “Seems like the outside world has done you some good.”

“Guess so,” Karin mutters, begrudgingly close to conceding that Kuukaku _might_ have had a point after all, and that she _might_ have been sulking. She doesn’t, but it’s a close thing. Starting today, Karin’s going to try and live in the present. It takes a moment, but Karin takes a deep breath and grins back at Kuukaku. “Sky’s still blue, after all.”

 

 

When Karin wakes up the next day, she feels better than she has all week.

It’s a feeling that lasts all of breakfast, and abruptly stops as soon as she learns that she has a visitor.

“Karin,” Shiruganehiko announces — she’s _pretty certain_ it’s Shiruganehiko — clearing his throat. “Hitsugaya Toushirou is here to see you.”

It’s like the world stands still.

She can’t have heard that right. He must have said a different name, and for some reason, her ears registered that one.

Her thought struggle to form; sounds blur into static.

“Could you,” Karin’s tongue feels heavy, finding it difficult to finish her sentence. “Repeat that?”

And Shiruganehiko says the exact same thing so she couldn’t have heard it wrong.

Hitsugaya Toushirou is here to see her.

_What the fuck is he doing here?_

“Karin?” Ganjuu says, cautiously, sounding very far away. “Everything okay?”

_What the fuck is he doing here?_

“Yeah,” Karin says, tightly, forcing herself to answer. She digs her nails into her skin. Takes a deep breath, mind made up in a flash. “Tell him to go away.”

_What the fuck is he doing here?_

“I don’t want to see him.”

Not now. Not _ever._

It’s been years, but somehow the hurt feels fresh, as if it only happened seconds ago. She doesn’t expect to feel a wave of humiliation and anger to rise up within her, so intensely, so brightly that she might as well be choking on it.

“Shiruganehiko,” Karin demands, squaring her shoulders, _daring_ him to change her mind.

“Very well,” Shiruganehiko says, bowing before departing.

Karin tries to relax. Stares at her fists for a long time before realizing that she has to unclench them. Her chest feels tight as she slowly unfurls her hands. The crescent marks look much deeper than she expected them to be.

“Hey. Hey, Karin?” Ganjuu says, and Karin’s head snaps to the sound. She wonders how long Ganjuu had been trying to get her attention.

“I. Um,” Karin swallows, desperate to leave the room, and stands up, legs unsteady. “Excuse me. I need a moment.”

 

 

Karin had thought her anger had faded. She’d thought she’d put it behind her, doing her best to blot him out and refuse to talk about it to anyone. She refused to even _think_ about him.

And the truth is, it had worked.

Life had gone on after that humiliation in the field.

Karin had moved forward, deciding that she wasn’t going to date boys for a long time, that she was going to be mad at her father forever, and that she was _done_ with the _shinigami_ world.

Yeah, so that didn’t happen.

No matter how Karin tried, she couldn’t be mad at Goat Face forever. Oh, she _stewed_ in her moodiness and passive aggressiveness and death glares because _why hadn’t he told her if he’d known all along?_ She glowered nonstop for a really long, doing her damndest to let her anger be eternal. But the thing about being angry for eternity is that it’s _exhausting_ , and eventually Karin burnt out. It’s hard being angry at someone when you’re living under the same roof, and Karin gave it a good go, but eventually something had to give, and she got over herself. Her snark at her father’s antics became less pointed, and became a bit more affectionate, and eventually the tense atmosphere in the Kurosaki household dissipated.

And if she could forgive her father, she could forgive Rangiku, even though that took a _little_   
bit more convincing, and _only_ after Rangiku had promised countless times that she’d make it up to her.

(But forgiving Toushirou? Karin doesn’t have it in her to do that, so the next best thing was to forget him.)

As for boys, well… maybe one caught her eye, and Karin had forgotten that she’d sworn off boys at all.

The point is: life went on. Karin moved on.

Karin had thought that that part of her life was over and done with. She had no idea that the idea of Hitsugaya waiting for her in the afterlife would evoke such emotions within her.

Her heart races recklessly and doesn’t calm down for the longest time.

 

 

There’s a knock on the door.

“Karin?”

“Ganjuu?” Karin blinks, and lets him in. “What do you want?”

He’s silent for a moment, then folds his arms and clears his throat.

“You want to find a boar?” Ganjuu asks, his voice gruff. There’s something about the way he looks to the side, not quite meeting her eyes, that reminds her of Ichigo, but Karin’s too caught up in the randomness of the question to notice right away.

Instead she stares at him, wondering for the second time that morning, if her ear were working properly.

“What?”

“Well, you’ve been here for a week,” Ganjuu points out, shrugging, like that’s explanation enough. Karin doesn’t follow, so he continues. “Look. It’s pretty much tradition that any member of the Shiba clan — and associates — get themselves a boar. Kuukaku’s got one. I’ve got one. All my squad has one. Even Uncle Isshin had one when he lived here. I think it’s about time you get one too.”

“You’re kidding,” Karin snorts, unable to prevent herself from smiling, amazed. “ _Goat Face_ had one?”

“Yeah, his was a real terror,” Ganjuu wryly grins, reminiscing. “I have some great stories about Cassidy. Want to hear about them?”

“Do I get a boar if I do?” Karin quips, droll. She takes a moment, and then looks back at Ganjuu, who is grinning at her. It’s easy to grin back, mind made up. “Yeah, you know what, fine. Let’s get a boar, and you can tell me about Cassidy alone the way.”

“Awesome.”

 

 

For the record, even though Ganjuu _does_ regale Karin with fantastic stories about Isshin and Cassidy, Karin’s not surprised that Ganjuu eventually _does_ turn the conversation about earlier that morning.

To his credit, he only asks after he’s certain that she’s in a sufficiently good mood and wouldn’t bite his head off.

“So,” Ganjuu clears his throat, and Karin just _knows_ it’s time. She takes a deep breath. “You got some kind of beef with Hitsugaya?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Karin allows, and exhales. She can feel anger bubbling in her bloodstream, and tries to control it. She’s not going to snap at Ganjuu; instead she stomps on the grass with a little more force than necessary. “He’s a fucking _asshole.”_

“Really?” Ganjuu looks doubtful. “I met him a couple weeks back, he seemed alright to me.”

She’s not going to ask.

She is _not_ going to ask.

“Yeah, well,” Karin mutters, scuffing her shoe against mud. She looks down and frowns. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“Were you two close?”

“A long time ago,” Karin murmurs vaguely. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She feels Ganjuu’s gaze linger on her while Karin marches briskly ahead, and for a moment, she wonders if he stopped, and that’s why the distance between them is so great. She looks back, and Ganjuu’s walking slowly towards her, with an expression that seems like he’s debating continuing the conversation. Karin stands still, waiting for him to catch up, to make up his mind, and in the end Ganjuu shakes his head, heaving out a sigh.

“Suit yourself,” Ganjuu says eventually. He looks around and furrows his brow. “I _swear_ I some boars over here a couple of days ago…”

“Are you sure?” Karin asks. “I mean, we’ve been wandering about for _ages,_ Ganjuu! If there were some boars in the vicinity, shouldn’t we have seen them by now?”

To her surprise, Ganjuu starts laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, Karin,” Ganjuu grins, taking an obnoxious tone. “You know _nothing_ about boar catching.”

“Obviously not!” Karin says. She’s a teenage girl who lived in a modern world! There were _towns_ and _technology_ and _traffic!_ At what point was she supposed to know about boar catching? “Should I?”

“If you want a pet boar, then _obviously_ _yes!_ ” Ganjuu rolls his eyes. “There’s catching the boar, then taming them, and looking after them. It is not easy, I tell you! But it _is_ worth every second, and since we met, Bonnie and I have been through a lot together.”

“Yeah?”

“How do you think I met your brother?” Ganjuu asks, raising his eyebrow. Karin stops in her tracks. “You do know how Ichigo and I met, right?”

“Actually,” Karin pauses, thinking back and coming up blank. When she first met Ganjuu and Kuukaku, Ichigo already knew who they were, and there were more important things to care about — like getting to know her father’s side of the family. Apparently Karin had never heard the full story. “No. I guess not.”

“Oh, well, it’s a _great_ story,” Ganjuu boasts, eyes gleaming as he tells her the details, and how important Bonnie was to the tale.

 

 

They don’t find a boar that day, and the next few days aren’t that successful either. Their tracking skills improve with the help of Ganjuu’s friends, though, and each time Karin returns to the Shiba mansion with Ganjuu, covered in mud, and utterly exhausted, she can’t help but find herself grinning.

It’s easily the most fun Karin has had for a while.

Being dead isn’t so bad, Karin comes to find. Honestly, it doesn’t feel so different from living after all.

In a weird way, she wonders if she should consider herself dead. Yes, she _did_ die, and that hurts, but… Karin doesn’t consider Kuukaku and Ganjuu and Rangiku dead. Even if they weren’t born in the living world, Karin considered them to be just as alive as her — back when she was alive in the living world.

People born in Soul Society see things differently. They call the living world the material world; they see themselves as alive because they’ve never known anything else. Karin’s a soul now just like them — maybe one day she’ll regard herself as alive, just as they do.

 

 

After Hitsugaya, Karin _really_ should have expected Rangiku.

Unfortunately, she’s too caught up in trying to catch Clyde — that’s what she’s going to call him, Karin has pre-emptively decided — that Rangiku is the furthest thing from her mind.

“Hey, are you going to send me away too?” Rangiku calls, standing at the entrance.

“You?” Karin says, surprise flickering all over her. Neither Koganehiko or Shiruganehiko summoned her, the truth was she was going to have another go with Clyde, and was impatiently waiting for Ganjuu to come back with his boar squad. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know,” Rangiku pouts, mock coy. “You sent the Captain away.”

“Yeah, well,” Karin shrugs, not feeling remorse about that in the slightest, her heartbeat a steady rhythm. “That was the Captain.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Rangiku’s eyes sparkle in understanding. “So, not me?”

“No, Ran-chan,” Karin smiles, glad to see her friend again. “You’re free to visit here any time you like.”

“C’mere!” Rangiku says, arms outstretched, and Karin happily embraces her. “I might just take you up on that.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Karin grins. “C’mon, I know a great place we can hang out.”

“Karin,” Koganehiko says, “If you wait just a couple of minutes, I can prepare a picnic basket for you.”

“A _picnic_ basket?” Rangiku echoes, delighted at the notion. “How about that!”

“Alright,” Karin agrees, glancing at Rangiku with amusement, and makes a mental note for when Koganehiko returns to pass on the message to Ganjuu that Clyde can relax for another day. “We’ll wait.”

 

 

The sky is blue. Sun’s bright. Grass is green. The picnic blanket is red and black, and Rangiku is giggling.

_Well._

It _starts_ off as a giggle, by the end of it, it’s rambunctious cackling.

“A _pretzel_ ,” Rangiku says, snorting, between fits of laughter. “That’s how you went out?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Karin rolls her eyes, heat rushing to her cheeks. It’s not as embarrassing as it used to be, but it’s still a little bit of a sore subject. “I died like a dumbass.”

 _Just_ a little bit.

“It’s… creative, I’ll give you that,” Rangiku says, wiping her eyes. “I bet a lot of people don’t die by choking these days.”

“You never know,” Karin says darkly, “It could happen to you. Could happen very meal, in fact.”

“You wouldn’t save me?” Rangiku pouts, eyes wide, as she makes a theatricality of her hurt. “Karin-chan.”

“Of course I would,” Karin is quick to reassure her. Even if she _wasn’t_ the daughter of a doctor, it’s in her nature to help someone if she had the chance. “I’m just saying.”

“Alright,” Rangiku says, shrugging it before perking up and grinning. “So… Spiritual Arts Academy is accepting applicants soon. Are you excited?”

“What?” Karin looks at her, eyes wide.

“Spiritual Arts Academy,” Rangiku repeats herself, before her expression becomes confused. “ _Shinigami_ Academy? Aren’t you going to go?”

“Um,” Karin bites her lip. “No. I don’t think so.”

The thought has crossed her mind, but something keeps holding her back.

“Why?” Rangiku gazes at her with gentle curiosity, tentatively leaning forward. “Is it because of Captain Hitsugaya?”

“No,” Karin shakes her head. “It’s not that.”

There’s plenty of ways to avoid him, Karin reckons. Did Captains even go to _Shinigami_ Academy after they graduated? And even then, it’s a fairly easy decision to decide to not choose his Division.

Truthfully, Karin’s been thinking a lot about Kuukaku’s question — if she’s in a rush to go anywhere — and at the time, Karin had shaken her head, unsure _what_ she wanted, still trying to process her life after death.

Even now, she’s not sure what she wants, she’s just trying to keep her head afloat, relearning how to breathe.

“It’s just… I _…_ I’m still trying to figure myself out, y’know?”

There’s a lot to come to terms with, and Karin doesn’t feel like she _has_. So how could she go to _Shinigami_ Academy in such a conflicted state of mind?

“Yeah,” Rangiku murmurs, her tone sombre. There’s a faraway look on her face, and it’s a long time before she speaks again. “I didn’t go to the Academy for a long time either. I suppose there was a time I was content to live in Rukongai, even though it was a pretty rotten place back then.”

“Was it?” Karin asks quietly. She doesn’t know that part of Rangiku’s life. There’s a lot that she doesn’t know about Rangiku, she realizes. “You’ve never mentioned it before.”

“It was a long time ago,” Rangiku says, deceptively light. “And things were different back then. Besides, I’m _much_ happier being a _shinigami_ , you know.”

“Right,” Karin snorts, despite herself. “I’m sorry; I forget that you’re older than you look. You look like you’re thirty to me.”

“I’m in my prime,” Rangiku winks at her. “For a _very_ long time!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Karin grins, rolling her eyes, because it’s surprisingly easy to fall back into old habits, and talking to Rangiku has brought back a semblance of normality that she didn’t think was possible. She’s missed Rangiku, and revels in the familiarity for a moment before she finds the courage to speak again. “I’m not saying I’ll never go to the Academy, Ran-chan, but… I don’t think I’m ready to go just yet.”

“But one day?” Rangiku presses, cautiously. Unable to hide a note of hopelessness. “Maybe?”

“Maybe,” Karin allows, because it’s not like she’s made up her mind either way. Just because she doesn’t want to go at the moment doesn’t mean that she won’t want to go in the future. “Right now, this is where I want to be.”

“I can understand that,” Rangiku says, flashing a grin. “You’re living in a mansion after all! Sounds like a sweet life to me.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Karin says, cheeks warming, “I _did_ say that you’re welcome to drop by any time.”

“Yes, I think I remember you saying _something_ like that earlier,” Rangiku teases, mirth gleaming in her eyes as she mulls over that reminder. “Okay! I guess you don’t _have_ to be a _shinigami_ any time soon.”

“Ran-chan!” Karin gasps. “Are you going to use this place as a hiding spot?”

“ _Possibly_ ,” Rangiku waggling her eyebrows, indulging in the audacity of the idea. “It _is_ pretty far from Seireitei…”

“If your Captain comes anywhere _near_ this place —” Karin threatens, stopping when Rangiku snickers, and her rising temper gives way to confusion. “What?”

“Gotcha,” Rangiku says, robin egg eyes twinkling, her smile like the cat that’s got the cream. “The look on your face sure was scary though!”

“ _Oh!_ ” Karin flushes, feeling foolish for falling for Rangiku’s mischief. “Shit, Ran-chan, how could you?”

Rangiku snorts.

“How could I _not?”_

“You are awful,” Karin says, whacking Rangiku’s shoulder with only a little bit of force. “ _Awful!_ ”

“I think you mean _delightful_ ,” Rangiku corrects her, whacking her shoulder lightly in return. “I also accept _beautiful_ and _lovely_. But you can use other complimentary words if you want, Karin-chan!”

She should have known that Rangiku would wind Karin up just because she _could._

And if she couldn’t predict that, then there’s no way Karin could have predicted what Rangiku would ask next.

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive Captain Hitsugaya?”

It’s something Rangiku has never asked before. Maybe she came close to asking in prior conversations, but if so, Karin never noticed. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to notice. As far as she can recall, any mention to Hitsugaya is fleeting, hardly something to be dwelled on. Or maybe that’s just what Karin wants to believe.

Karin is silent for a long time, pensive, and her voice is bitter when she speaks.

“Do you think I should?”

“I think,” Rangiku pauses, mulling over her choice of words. “That it’s up to you. But you were able to forgive your father and me for knowing the truth the whole time and not telling you.”

“So I should be able to forgive him too, right?” Karin asks, continuing that line of thought, her stomach swirling unpleasantly. “Well, I can’t! I just can’t do it, Ran-chan!”

It _hurt_ , knowing that Rangiku and Goat Face could have told her at any time that Juushirou didn’t exist.

But it was _nothing_ compared to the hurt Karin felt when she found out that Juushirou _was_ Toushirou.

“I understand,” Rangiku says quietly, and it’s weird, because part of Karin expected to be judged for it. Part of her expected Rangiku to change her mind and convince her that — oh, isn’t it ridiculous to be still be angry at a former friend — something along those lines. That Rangiku might make light of it, or persuade her stance because he’s her Captain, and she’s loyal to him. But instead, she lets her be.

But Rangiku always did have a knack for surprising her.

Or maybe today is just a day where she excels at catching Karin off-guard.

“Actually,” Rangiku hums. “That’s actually one of the fun things about being a spirit, you know.”

“What?” Karin asks, wondering where Rangiku is going with that particular tangent.

“Grudges in the material world are _nothing_ compared to grudges in the Soul Society,” Rangiku explains, like it’s a fun fact, and Karin supposes it just might be. There’s so much she doesn’t know about the spirit world. “I’ve seen a few grudges last longer than a human’s lifespan.”

“Huh,” Karin says. She can’t imagine that. “Older than me?”

“Karin-chan,” Rangiku says, as if she’s said the cutest thing. “A seventeen year old grudge is _nothing_. That’s like, a grudge lasting for a _day_ in the material world.”

“That’s so weird,” Karin remarks, shaking her head. To think, she could be younger than a _grudge._

“Food for thought,” Rangiku says, changing subjects whimsically. “And on that note, shall we finally eat?”

Karin’s stomach rumbles.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Karin grins, and starts to empty the contents of the picnic basket.


	3. Honey Hiraeth

Yuzu drops by, maybe a month or so later.

The thing about living in the spirit world, Karin comes to find, is that it feels a bit like summer holiday. The days blur by, turning slow and lazy, and soon time lulls itself into having no meaning at all.

She doesn’t have school to ground her and give her structure. It’s not that Karin found school particularly interesting or something she excelled at — but it gave her reason to remember which day was which, and look forward to the weekend.

Not to say that Karin _wants_ to look forward to two days out of seven, but, well. Maybe _some_ structure in her life wouldn’t go unappreciated, is all she’s saying.

(“You want to work with fireworks?” Kuukaku offers, archly, when Karin voices this thought. “‘Cause I can make that happen, you know. Full-time, part-time, odd hours, you name it.”

“Let me sleep on it,” Karin says quickly, because she’s not sure she’s ready for a _job._

Kuukaku laughs, not unkindly, and rolls her eyes.)

Anyways — _Yuzu_.

“Yuzu!” Karin grins as soon as she sees her sister in the Shiba household, wrapping her twin in a tight embrace, warmth spreading in her chest. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Karin-chan!” Yuzu squeaks, her voice muffled. “I’ve missed you too!”

“What are you doing here?” Karin asks, drawing back, her happiness at seeing her sister transforming into panic as her thoughts race to the worst. “Did you die? How? Why? _When?_ Tell me _everything!_ ”

“What? No! No, Karin-chan, I didn’t die. I’m very much alive!” Yuzu reassures her, with a shy smile, completely calm while Karin works herself into a frantic frenzy. “I’m okay. I’m okay, Karin-chan.”

“Oh,” Karin breathes out, cheeks reddening because she jumped to the wrong conclusion. She has to calm down. Focus on her sister’s words. Relax. “Well. Good.”

In fairness, it’s a _reasonable_ conclusion to come to, since this is the afterlife and all.

(It’s easier to forget on this side.)

“Then, what are you doing here?” Karin asks, unable to stop herself from smiling. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you — I am so, so happy to see you, Yuzu, but —”

“I found something!” Yuzu beams impishly, revealing a piece of paper in her hand. “Remember this?”

_The Soul Ticket!_

“Yeah,” Karin blinks, voice oddly soft. She used to use it all the time since Soul Society never took it back, so she figured she might as well put it to good use and cross from one world into the next just to talk to — well, with someone she was once friends with. But she used it to drop by and talk to Rangiku too, come to think of it. And then, well, she must have misplaced it or something, all because her room was a mess. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Yuzu nods. “You know, I probably could have found it sooner if you’d actually _cleaned_ your side of the room more often —”

“It was in its place!” Karin argues, heatedly. “I had it _exactly_ where I wanted it to be!”

“Oh really?” Yuzu asks, her eyes gleaming.

Karin recognizes that look and she doesn’t like it.

“ _Yes_ ,” Karin insists, folding her arms. It’s a stupid realization, but it turns out that _even in death_ , she can’t escape Yuzu’s reminders to tidy her room.

“Then where was it?” Yuzu asks simply.

“What?”

“This ticket,” Yuzu waves it in front of her, _because of course Yuzu does when she thinks she has the upper hand._ “Where was it?”

“In my room,” Karin huffs, looking away.

“Mmhm,” Yuzu nods serenely, her patience _infuriating_. “Where exactly?”

“Oh. Um,” Karin shrugs, feigning nonchalance instead of giving the urge to snap at her sister. “Hard to say.”

“That’s what I thought,” Yuzu smiles sweetly, the closest that she’ll ever get to _I told you so._ “It was under your bed, by the way.”

“I knew that,” Karin mumbles, cheeks burning. “Under my bed, right.”

“As I was saying,” Yuzu continues, with an utterly obnoxious look on her face, satisfied that she won that round of conversation. “I remember that you used to use it all the time.”

Karin laughs awkwardly, trying not to cringe. It’s not something she’s proud of these days.

“So I talked to Urahara-san, wondering if it was possible that instead of using it to go and talk to Rangiku-san, and instead use it to visit you instead,” Yuzu explains, cheeks turning pink. “He said it should be fine, and here I am!”

“Huh,” Karin says. Here she is. “Cool.”

It’s pretty fortunate that Soul Society seems to have forgotten about ever handing them a ticket, though Karin can’t help but wonder what the original purpose was for. It wasn’t just so Karin could talk to her _shinigami_ friends, Karin’s fairly certain of that.

“He also wanted me to give you this,” Yuzu says, opening her bag to reveal a red phone. “Said it was a gift.”

“For me?” Karin blinks, slightly misty eyed. “Wow.”

“Yes,” Yuzu smiles, “so now we can talk to each other whenever you like.”

 _That was really nice of him_ , Karin thinks, a lump in her throat, trying to quiet her gratitude. Even if she _wanted_ to thank Urahara, she knows he’d wave it off, say that he owed her brother. It wouldn’t stop her from thanking him the next time she saw him, though.

“You already put your number in,” Karin says, thickly. “Didn’t you?”

“Yup,” Yuzu chirps, proud of herself. “Ichi-nii’s too!”

“Thanks, Yuzu.”

“So what have you been up to?” Yuzu asks, eyes wide and expectant. “Surely you must have done _something_ since I last saw you?”

“I have,” Karin agrees, hesitantly. It’s not exactly like she’s doing _nothing_ after all.  She’s settled in and made herself at home in the Shiba household. She wouldn’t call that a waste of time. “I. Um. I got myself a boar.”

_Finally._

“A boar?” Yuzu gasps. “Like Bonnie-chan?”

“Kind of,” Karin laughs, placing her hand at the back of her neck. “Want to meet Clyde?”

 

 

Clyde is a menace with attitude and Karin loves him _so_ much.

“Hi, Clyde! Hi!” Karin says, as she enters the boar pen. Ganjuu has taken Bonnie out for the day, and Kuukaku’s boar, Marilyn, is sleeping. Marilyn spends of her days sleeping. But Clyde? The tiny little boar that he is? Loves belly rubs and loves Karin even more. “Who’s a good boar? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!”

“Oh my _goodness!”_ Yuzu squeals, outside the pen, leaning in. “Karin-chan, he’s so _cute!”_

“He’s a _baby_ ,” Karin coos, and Clyde snorts and snuffles at her. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Clyde. You remember Yuzu? I’ve talked about her, right? Well, she wants to meet you!”

At Karin’s insistent nod, Yuzu steps in, to which Clyde instantly tries to head butt her leg.

“Whoa, Clyde!” Karin says, trying to smother a laugh. “She’s family. Easy now. You okay, Yuzu?”

Clyde is glaring.

“I’m okay,” Yuzu says gently, looking nonplussed. “Should I…?”

“Give him a pet,” Karin suggests, nodding as Yuzu carefully lowers her hand to scratch at Clyde’s ears. To Clyde, Karin says. “See? Yuzu-chan’s not going to hurt you, you silly pig.”

Clyde wriggles his nose, snorting, and trots away from Yuzu, back to Karin.

Karin grins, and scratches under his chin.

“He likes you,” Karin tells Yuzu with a wry smile. “He’s just not going to admit it for a while.”

Clyde ignores her.

See? _Menace_.

 

 

“So how did you get Clyde?” Yuzu asks, as they stroll on the grassy fields, their destination nowhere in particular.

“We were actually tracking a different boar at the time,” Karin begins, thinking back. “Ganjuu roped in his friends in to help since we were getting nowhere, and then one day Danberu — he’s the bald one out of Ganjuu’s group — kind of stumbled across him. Angry little thing, even then, and Danberu is _really_ good with animals. So, Danberu calls us over, and he’s doing his best to free him, ‘cause Clyde trapped himself in the bushes, and then he just… leaps into my arms.”

“Aw!”

“… and bites me,” Karin adds, after an appropriate pause.

“ _Oh_ ,” Yuzu makes a sympathetic face.

“Yeah,” Karin nods. Love at first sight it was not. At least on Clyde’s side. “But I think, _alright then_ , and refuse to let go. It was more difficult than you’d think it be, since Clyde would _not_ stop wriggling and doing everything he can to escape me! But you know me, Yuzu, I’m tenacious!”

“Yes, you are,” Yuzu agrees with a smile in her voice.

“Anyway, by the time I’ve carried Clyde home, he’d more or less calmed down,” Karin shrugs. It’s not _exactly_ true — after the first hour, Clyde had quietened down, too exhausted to attempt slipping out of Karin’s arms, but that didn’t stop him from being surly for the rest of the journey to his new home. “And he was _definitely_ friendlier after we’d given him something to eat.”

It had taken a week for Karin’s legs to stop gaining new bruises, since Clyde was hell-bent on escaping and enjoyed head-butting Karin’s shins. He never made it past Shiruganehiko or Koganehiko’s watch, those two bodyguards able to terrify the living daylights out of the boar, but Clyde sure enjoyed causing a ruckus as he ran across the grounds, with Karin struggling to keep up with him until Danberu was thoughtful enough to think of a peace treaty offering — breakfast, lunch and dinner were a stalemate of sorts. And then Clyde would take off again, and inevitably, Karin would have to chase after him.

(Kuukaku had gotten a _little_ bit annoyed, but that was only after Clyde had somehow set off fireworks that were inside of a shed. Kuukaku had laughed anyway, when she saw Karin’s soot stained face.

And Clyde, that unscathed fucker, was just lucky nobody wanted to turn him into bacon.)

“Sure, I’ve had some ups and downs with him,” Karin admits freely, after recounting _that_ merry tale, “but it’s been worth it. ‘Cause now he _adores_ me.”

“But _how?”_ Yuzu asks in surprise, eyes wide. “It sounds like he’s caused nothing but trouble for you.”

“It’s a secret,” Karin grins, refusing to admit the simple truth: Kuukaku’s patience ran out and she threatened to devour Clyde for dinner.

(“That’s pretty much how I tamed Bon-chan too,” Ganjuu tells her, understandingly, with Clyde seeking comfort in her arms. “I guess Kuukaku’s just got a way with boars, y’know?”)

“It’s still going to be a while ‘til I can ride Clyde though,” Karin says ruefully. “But Ganjuu says that in a couple of months I can ride Bonnie, so that’s pretty awesome!”

“You don’t think Clyde will get jealous?” Yuzu raises her eyebrow, giggling.

“Hopefully that’ll be his motivation to grow bigger more quickly,” Karin replies lightly. “Anyway, enough about me. What about you?”

“Me?” Yuzu blinks.

“Of course you!” Karin elbows her good-naturedly. “I want to hear all about it.”

“Well, it’s… been difficult,” Yuzu begins, and Karin’s stomach drops. “I can’t really talk to anyone about you. I mean, I _can_ with Ichi-nii and his friends, and Jinta-kun and Ururu-chan. They understand, but… your old friends miss you dreadfully, and it’s not like I can say to anyone at school ‘I’m going to visit her this weekend, do you want to come with me’?”

As much as Karin enjoys spending time with Ganjuu’s squad, she misses her own. Even though she likes Danberu, Top, Fever and Hawk; she’s always reminded of how things used to be with Pinta, Donny, Usaka and Ryouhei whenever she sees Ganjuu boss his four friends about.

She misses the people she went to school with. Maybe she didn’t always get along with Midoriko or Iida, but she saw them every day. Now, there’s a good chance that she’ll never see them ever again.

“Oh. Oh no, I didn’t mean —” Yuzu blinks rapidly, turning pink, like she’s. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood. I’m sorry, Karin.”

“Don’t be,” Karin says, softly, touching her sister’s arm. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

“It’s just… you’re dead,” Yuzu continues, tears glimmering in her eyes. She swallows. “Everyone thinks you’re dead, and you _are,_ Karin-chan! I know that! I went to your funeral, I mourned you, I have to remind myself to talk about you in past tense. I have to live with the fact that people who know me think of me as an only twin now. But you’re still — you’re still _here_. I can talk to you. I can hug you. You’re _here._ And it’s almost like —”

 _It’s almost like you’re alive anyway,_ Karin finishes the unspoken sentence.

“I know,” Karin murmurs. Being aware of the afterlife and given the ability to crossover into it has kind of messed up their perception of death. It’s confusing because she’s dead and yet it feels like she’s alive and Karin’s still trying to sort through it herself.

“I miss you _every day,_ ” Yuzu whispers, tears falling freely, given up the pretence that everything is fine. “I don’t like waking up and not seeing you there with me, Karin-chan!”

“I feel the same way,” Karin sighs, chest tight. Part of her still expects to wake up in the morning, roll over, and see her sister sleeping beside her. Waking up alone is always been a bitter reminder how things changed. There’s a hole in her heart, and it grows more vacant each day because Yuzu’s not there. “We’ve never been apart for this long, have we?”

They came to the living world together; neither of them expect that they’d leave it at the same time, but still, they thought they would have more time.

“Nope,” Yuzu shakes her head, embracing Karin in a tight hug, and Karin gently rubs her back. “I don’t like it, Karin-chan.”

“It sucks,” Karin murmurs, trying not to get choked up. But words are difficult to form when you feel like crying as well. “It’s not all bad, though. I mean, look, you’re here, aren’t you? You can drop by whenever you like, and I’ll be waiting. And, thanks to Urahara, I’m only a phone call away. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Karin’s talked to a couple of locals in her spare time. Some of them haven’t been reunited with their families. Some of them believe they never will be. They make do with new ones, they are content with them, but Karin wonders if part of them will always long for the family they loved first. If part of them will always wait for them.

But their living family members can’t visit for a day if they wish. They can’t call whenever they like. The denizens of Rukongai don’t have the connections that the Kurosaki family do.

Karin’s lucky, in that respect, even though she doesn’t feel lucky at the moment.

“It hasn’t been pure sunshine for me either, Yuzu,” Karin confides, quietly. “I only wanted to make it seem that way so you wouldn’t worry.”

It’s true that Kuukaku and Ganjuu make her feel part of the family, and Karin sees them as such. But that doesn’t erase her grief, doesn’t make her miss her family in the living material world any less.

“Oh Karin,” Yuzu sniffs. “I was always going to worry about you.”

“Right, well, back at you,” Karin whispers, her voice muffled. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you.”

They stay in each other’s embrace for a long time, clinging to the moment. Eventually, though, Karin draws back, and smiles at Yuzu.

It felt good to get that off her chest. To not let it build up inside of her.

“Feel better?” Karin asks, gently.

“A little,” Yuzu says, wiping her tears away. She smiles back. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

“That kind of promise is made to be broken,” Karin says, wrinkling her nose. “I would know. Besides, this is the first time we’ve seen each other since… since I choked on that pretzel. Of course you were going to cry.”

“What?”

“You cry at sappy love stories! Pictures of cute kittens make you cry! You’re an emotional person,” Karin points out. “Honestly, I would be insulted if you didn’t cry.”

“Karin-chan!”

“Okay, fine, I wouldn’t be,” Karin relents, looking at Yuzu meaningfully. “But you get what I mean, right?”

“I do,” Yuzu says, eyes still watery. “It’s still… a lot to handle.”

“Yeah,” Karin agrees. It sure is. She doesn’t remember her mother that well, but the loss was still hard. This time, she’s the one who’s separated from her family, and the sorrow feels a hundredfold worse. Still, she clings onto some semblance of hope. Little things that have helped. Ganjuu and Kuukaku being nice to her. Helping her fit in. Finding Clyde. It’s not perfect, but little by little, it makes the ache fade. “But haven’t there been moments of a silver lining too?”

Maybe it’s too soon.

It’s hard to keep track of time, and grief has no limit. But in the afterlife, it’s almost like it’s a new start, and no one knows who you are. And that makes the transition easier, a little, maybe. But in the living world, it’s easier to relive the past, to feel the fleetingness of life, and realize how fragile it can be. It’s easier to get stuck, somehow, fixate on that moment when everything changed.

But Karin _wants_ her sister to be happy, for good things to happen to her.

“Well,” Yuzu blushes, brightening as she remembers. “There is _one_ thing, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm,” Yuzu nods, beaming. “It happened last week, actually —”

“Hey, don’t spoil the surprise, Yuzu!”

A familiar voice drawls, and Karin nearly snaps her own neck as she turns to the sound of _that_ voice.

“Ichi-nii!” Karin grins. “And… Orihime-chan!”

“Hey, Karin,” Ichigo grins, cool and composed like all big brothers who are aloof but secretly incredibly goofy are. Besides him is Orihime, serenely gazing at the place with a nostalgic expression on her face.

“What are you doing here?” Karin asks, surprised but delighted.

“Apparently, stopping Yuzu from beating us to the chase,” Ichigo sighs, looking at her with a wearied affection.

“And I was so close too!” Yuzu teases, unexpectedly mischievous.

“About what?” Karin asks, blankly, looking at both Yuzu and Ichigo in bafflement.

“About some news,” Ichigo grins, sheepish but proud, and only then does Karin notice Ichigo’s hand. One hand is in his pocket, the other is holding Orihime’s hand tighter than usual.

“No way,” Karin grins. “You _didn’t._ ”

Ichigo frowns.

“Jeez, Karin, at least let me say it first,” Ichigo mutters, miffed that she guessed correctly. Still, Karin plays her part as the dutiful little sister, all ears for what her big brother has to say. He looks at Orihime, and it’s almost disgusting how he softens into mush. How gentle and adoring his smile becomes. “Orihime and I are engaged.”

They’re glowing with happiness even before Ichigo gets the words out.

“Congratulations!” Karin says. “I’m so happy for you two! You’re already such a dear part of the family.”

“Thank you, Karin-chan,” Orihime says, blushing prettily.

“So when’s the wedding?” Karin asks, feeling a pang in her chest, knowing that she won’t be there. Even if she had _become_ a _shinigami_ and enrolled in the Academy, she doubts they would have let her visit the material world.

“In six months!” Yuzu cuts in, before Ichigo does. She looks at him. “What? I let you tell her the big news! I had to tell her something!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ichigo rolls his eyes, annoyed, but evidently not too annoyed, since he couldn’t rid himself of that dopey look on his face. “Anyway, Orihime and I were hoping you would be there.”

“Can I be?” Karin asks, quietly. Her chest tightens, her heart tying itself into knots at the very thought that she might not be able to. It’s one thing to boast that she’d be there, newly dead, it’s another to come to terms with death and realize that such feats might not be possible. “I don’t even know where I’d get a _gigai._ ”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ichigo shrugs, his lack of concern touching, in an odd way. “It’s our wedding, damnit. I want you to be there.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” Orihime says gently. “I’m sure Urahara-san would be more than happy to lend you one.”

They do an awful lot of depending on Urahara, Karin notes privately. She knows that her brother helped out Urahara a lot, and that Ichigo saved the world, but _still._

“Okay,” Karin decides, after a beat, realizing that Urahara would probably have to be the one to sneak her into the material world as well. “I’ll be there.”

“Awesome,” Ichigo says, grinning, before clearing his throat and looking round. “So, has Ganjuu driven you up the wall yet?”

“Well —”

“He got Karin-chan a boar!” Yuzu jumps in, much to Karin’s consternation.

“A _boar?”_ Ichigo and Orihime echo, taken aback.

“Yuzu!” Karin flushes. “I was going to tell him about Clyde!”

“You snooze, you lose,” Yuzu teases, and Karin groans. “Clyde-chan is _very_ cute, Ichi-nii!”

“He got you… a boar,” Ichigo repeats, his tone mechanical. “Called Clyde.”

“I named him Clyde, Ichi-nii,” Karin says, slightly put out because Clyde is an _awesome_ name, thank you very much. “But yeah, basically. It’s Shiba tradition apparently? As soon as you die, you’re getting one too.”

“Great. That’s just… great,” Ichigo sighs, looking up to the sky. “I should have known this would happen.”

“Hm?”

“It’s nothing,” Ichigo shakes his head. “I just owe Ishida some money, is all.”

“What?” Karin blinks. “You made a bet against _Ishida?_ Really, Ichi-nii?”

Karin doesn’t know her brother’s friend that well, but even she knows _that._

“Shut up,” Ichigo scowls, reddening. He clears his throat, and in a terribly unsubtle attempt at trying to change the subject — “Hey, I never got round to telling you how I proposed to Orihime, did I?”

“It was _so_ romantic!” Orihime chimes in, swooning at the memory, and Karin listens, attention rapt.

 

 

Karin is sad to see them go.

Even though she enjoyed the afternoon spent catching up with them, there's still a note of bittersweetness knowing that they have to part ways again.

“We’ll be back soon,” Ichigo assures her, embracing her one last time. “And don’t be afraid to use that phone.”

“Yeah, alright, Ichi-nii,” Karin rolls her eyes, but she can’t help but smirk. “It was good to see you too.”

“Stay out of trouble,” Yuzu adds, stealing a hug just because she _can._ “Both you and Clyde-chan!”

“I’ll do my best,” Karin says, acting cocky, “but no promises.”

“Let’s keep in touch,” Orihime says, a smile on her face.

“I’d like that, Orihime-chan,” Karin agrees, nodding, before she waves them off, their figures disappearing in the distance. Her heart feels full again; something Karin has only felt when she was alive. The thought makes Karin release a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

She needed this. Karin needed see her family and see that they were doing okay. To know that they were moving forward but not forgetting about her; to really accept that they weren’t leaving her behind, leaving her to wait for them in a world that sometimes felt so far away even as Karin tries to familiarize herself with it.

The tears that fall down her face are of joy, relief, and Karin laughs, feeling ridiculous and like she doesn’t understand herself at all. In that moment, she feels so _much_ that it’s difficult to parse all of her emotions at once.

“Karin,” Shiruganehiko says, cautiously.

“I’m okay, I promise,” Karin says, scrubbing her cheeks. She feels drained, in a good way. In a way that’s left her feeling healed. “It’s just. It’s been a good day today.”

She thinks of Hiroto, and how he’s still waiting for his family. Feels a little bit guilty because she can access the other world through a phone — something she not take lightly.

It’s been a good day, but not a great day.

But it’s something that can easily be fixed.

“I, um,” Karin steps back. “There’s something I need to do.”

 

 

“C’mon,” Karin murmurs, sitting down on the grass, after she dials an all-too-familiar number and presses the red phone to her ear. “Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

The devil’s in the details, and Karin is touched that Urahara remembered that red is her favourite colour.

“Please,” Karin murmurs, hoping against hope that he’ll answer.

Time slows down as Karin waits.

And then —

_“Hello?”_

“Dad,” Karin smiles, and breathes out, tension fading from her shoulders, and just like that, good becomes great. “Hey.”


	4. Coquelicot Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: concussion, nongraphic vomiting

_"Karin! Are you listening to me?”_

Karin closes her eyes.

“I’m listening,” Karin says, trying to hold back a sigh. Makes the effort to sound more attentive. “Keep going, Goat Face.”

That red phone is a blessing and a curse. Now that Urahara provided the means for Karin to remain in contact with her family, her old man continues to be annoying as Karin found him back when she was alive. He is constantly finding reasons to call her, it doesn’t matter if they’re meaningful or meaningless, her father will call her up regardless.

Karin really wishes he wouldn’t do that. She doesn’t _need_ to know the intricacies of his spectacularly boring life.

On the positive side of things, when he’s calling her at home, Yuzu is more than happy to take the phone and talk to her instead, and if Karin listens very carefully, she can hear her father wailing in the background. Ichigo and Orihime call her from time to time as well, but far less frequently. Karin doesn’t mind, sometimes almost preferring their routine of checking in once a month to Isshin’s _hourly_ one.

(He doesn’t call not hourly, on some level Karin _knows_ she’s exaggerating, but sometimes it feels as if he does.)

_“They’ve decided to push the wedding back by two months.”_

“That’s not so bad, is it?” Karin asks, idly, and makes a mental note to act surprised when Ichigo informs her when it’s his turn to call. To be fair, she genuinely might have forgotten by that point anyway.

Two months is nothing. Two months have already flown by.

And it’s weird — the phone calls have anchored her, somehow. She’s able to keep track of the days better, because Yuzu always visits her on the weekend, or if she doesn’t, is always sure to call and let her know in advance. Sometimes Ichigo joins her, sometimes it’s her old man, and sometimes it’s just Yuzu alone — although someone always comes to pick Yuzu up at the end of the day.

 _“Of course not!”_ Her old man says, oblivious to her thoughts. _“The more time they have, the less reason they need to panic.”_

“I guess,” Karin says, somewhat doubtful. Even if the logic was sound, she wasn’t sure how true it was. Regardless of how meticulous the planning was, something usually went wrong at last minute. Or, that’s definitely what soap opera weddings had led her to believe, as foretold by Yuzu, which Karin had dutifully listened to. Last minute declarations of love to stop an impending disaster. Uninvited guests that ruined the seating arrangement. Stolen cake. All those important things. “They’re really going all out, huh?”

_“As they should!”_

Karin laughs softly. Looks up. Smiles.

“Yeah. No arguments here.”

 

 

“Have you ever thought about getting married?” Karin asks over breakfast.

Ganjuu chokes over his food.

“What? Where is this coming from?”

“Just,” Karin shrugs, waving her spoon around in a general manner. “You know. With Ichi-nii and Orihime getting married…”

“Ah,” Ganjuu says, suddenly sage.  “It’s put you in the mood, right?”

“… what?” Karin stares at him.

“The wedding mood,” Ganjuu says simply, as if that explains everything, and it absolutely _doesn’t._ “It’s very infectious you know. Makes people have marriage on the brain. First it was Rukia and Renji, then Ichigo and Orihime, soon it’ll be —”

 _“I don’t even have a boyfriend!”_ Karin shrieks, interrupting him and belatedly realizing that Ganjuu could have been about to refer to himself, or even any of her big brother’s friends, had she not butted in.

“So?” Kuukaku says, deciding to speak, and watching her curiously. Karin swears that Kuukaku does this solely to get under her skin. “You don’t need one.”

“I don’t?” Karin asks, surprised, before realizing. Oh, of _course._ “Well. I don’t have a girlfriend either.”

“No, Karin, we didn’t mean that either,” Ganjuu shakes his head. “All you have to do is find someone you like and declare yourself married and it’s done. Takes two seconds in Rukongai.”

“That can’t be true,” Karin says, in disbelief. What about the ceremony and the paperwork and… and the resources that aren’t really available for the denizens of Rukongai. On second thought, that makes a lot of sense. “Can it?”

“For the average person in Rukongai? Pretty much, unless you know the right person,” Kuukaku shrugs. “We get a couple of customers who ask for the wedding special every once in a while.”

“That one’s a real beauty,” Ganjuu sighs, sounding wistful. “Never fails to impress the crowd.”

“But for you, Karin? Part of the noble house of Shiba,” Kuukaku smirks, evidently delighted with this turn of conversation. “I’m sure I can arrange something.”

“Ganjuu first!” Karin deflects, turning bright red. She hates it when Kuukaku makes _those_ kinds of offers — _technically_ helpful, but _entirely_ unnecessary and not to mention — _completely_ unwanted.

Ganjuu chokes.

“Geez, Karin,” Ganjuu splutters, hitting his chest, and clearing his throat until he’s certain he’s in the clear. “Give a guy some warning, alright? Kuukaku ain’t arranging _shit_ for me. My bride is going to be my choice.”

“Alright, well. Right back at you,” Karin says, feeling self-conscious as she looks meaningfully at Kuukaku. “I choose the person I’m going to be with. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Kuukaku grins, obviously having far too much fun teasing her. “I’m just saying if you ever change your mind, let me know.”

Kuukaku even has the nerve to _wink_ at her _._

“Got it,” Karin drawls, really wishing that she didn’t see the resemblance between her father and her cousins as strongly as she does right now.

“Do you really need ten months to prepare for a wedding?” Ganjuu asks, head in his hand as he puzzles over their former topic of discussion before it got terribly side-tracked. “Seems like an awfully long time.”

“Kinda, yeah,” Karin confirms, nodding. She doesn’t know the complete details, but she knows they want a Western-style wedding. “Ichi-nii and Orihime have to organize everything themselves, so that definitely takes up a couple of months.”

“They can’t just get someone else to do it?” Ganjuu asks, curious. “Figuring out the details and all that?”

“They can,” Karin admits, with a tilt of her head. She’s certain that neither her brother nor his fiancé have anything against wedding planners. “But I think they’d rather do everything themselves. That, and Orihime says it’s more that fun that way.”

“To each their own,” Ganjuu shrugs, and Kuukaku lets out an amused laugh.

“I like her spark.”

 

 

“Can you imagine it, Clyde?” Karin scoffs, as she feeds her boar and recounts the entire debacle to him. She finds the whole thing somewhat amusing, somewhat embarrassing, as Clyde pays little attention to what she says, digging into his food. “Married. _Me_?”

She can’t see herself _ever_ settling down. Hooking up with people, yes. Spending the rest of her life with them? Not even remotely.

Clyde snorts and snuffles.

“I know,” Karin sighs, agreeing with his assessment. “It _is_ ridiculous. Who in their right mind would want to marry me?”

She laughs, self-depreciatingly, and strokes his fur.

“Then again, it’s not like _I_ want to get married, you know?” Karin asks, grinning as she dotes on him. “Being single is pretty great too. _”_

He snorts again, and Karin smiles, stupidly charmed by his indifference. It’s nice, somehow. Clyde stays by her side as she voices things on her mind, and maybe he listens, or maybe he doesn’t, but it’s comforting that he doesn’t wander off when Karin gets into one of these moods.

“Good talk,” Karin says, patting his head on final talk. “Thanks, Clyde.”

When she’s good and ready, Karin stands up and walks towards Bonnie.

“Morning Bonnie,” Karin says, much more formal. She takes a deep breath. She’s been preparing herself for this moment, and as much as she’d like to be cocky, she can’t escape the jitters. “How are you feeling today?”

Bonnie grunts at her.

 

 

The trick to boar riding, Ganjuu tells her with an easy-going smile, is to stay calm.

Calm.

Right.

_Right._

“Talk to me, cousin,” Ganjuu asks, folding his arms over his chest, and watching her like he already knows the answer but wants to hear it from her anyway. “You doing okay?”

Karin tenses.

“Define okay,” Karin says through clenched teeth, back ramrod straight as she feels hyper aware of herself as she sits on Bonnie. She’s stupidly conscious of all the molecules from her fingertips to her toes and how off-balance she is. “I dare you.”

“You gotta relax, Karin,” Ganjuu says, within reach but somehow standing too far away. “Take it easy.”

 _Easier said than done,_ Karin thinks mutinously.

She wishes she had learnt to ride a horse when she still had the chance. She doesn’t know if riding a horse is anything like riding a boar, but maybe the experience would have made her less nervous because she would have had something to compare to.

Boar riding and piggy back riding are… unfortunately not even _remotely_ similar.

“Deep breath,” Ganjuu says, doing his best to be reassuring. He’s not going anywhere. Karin knows that. She does. “Bon-chan’s not going to hurt ya.”

“I know,” Karin says, shakily. She just has to believe it herself. That’s the tricky part. Willing herself to relax. “I know.”

Why is this so _hard?_

“She likes you,” Ganjuu tells her, nonchalant. “Or she’d have thrown you off by now, y’know.”

Karin quashes the urge to look at him and _glower._

That is _not_ as comforting as Ganjuu would like her to believe. In fact, Karin wishes that he hadn’t told her that at all.

Particularly since there’s still _time_ for that.

“You worry too much,” Ganjuu tells her when Karin voices that thought, and laughs. Not at her, exactly, he hastily tries to explain later, he’s laughing at the notion that Bonnie would _do_ such a thing. It’s not especially convincing. “Look, we’re going to take it slow, yeah?”

“Slow,” Karin echoes, in total agreement, and does her best to exhale.

“Eyes on me, Karin. Not Bon-chan. Good. Listen, I’ll be with you the whole time,” Ganjuu says, and as soon as Karin fixes her gaze on him, and listens to what he has to say, the fear creeps away. Little by little, Karin begins to relax. “There are four types of walking with boars, okay? Do you know any of them?”

“Uh,” Karin thinks back. Tries to dredge up any knowledge of horses. Horses… canter. “There’s canter, right?”

“Very good, Karin!” Ganjuu praises her, and Karin manages a smile. Her shoulders feel less tight. “That’s the third type. Do you know any more?”

“Nope,” Karin says. Canter’s all she’s got. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Ganjuu says, his blasé attitude weirdly infectious. Karin watches him, attention rapt. “Fastest is the gallop. Second fastest is the canter. Second slowest is the trot. Guess what the slowest is called?”

“I… I don’t know,” Karin says, unable to think.

“It’s called,” Ganjuu takes a moment, and Karin rolls her eyes, waiting for him to get on with it. “The walk.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It absolutely is,” Ganjuu grins, pleased at her surprised expression, tension lifting as he successfully distracts her. “Sometimes simple is best, you know?”

“Yeah,” Karin says, oddly cheered up, and finding herself returning his grin. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So, how are you feeling now?” Ganjuu says, curious.

Karin takes a moment.

“I feel… okay?” Karin says, surprised at how honestly the admission is true. She stares at her hands that have unclenched without her realizing it, and exhales, suddenly aware of how much lighter and relaxed she feels. Delight thrums through her, and Karin faces her cousin once more with a smile. “Thanks, Ganjuu.”

“Anytime,” Ganjuu says. “See, what did I tell you? You’re going to be just fine.”

“Yeah,” Karin says, ready to believe it.

“Ready to walk Bonnie?” Ganjuu says, gazing adoringly at his boar, taking her snort as agreement. “That’s what I thought.”

“Okay,” Karin says, gaining confidence. “Let’s do this.”

Bonnie walks.

 

 

Bonnie fucking _gallops._

All Karin can do besides stopping herself screaming is cling onto the reins and hold on for her life, desperate for the moment that —

Oh, what the hell.

Karin _screams_.

Karin is screaming her head off, clinging onto the reins and holding on for her life, desperate for the moment that Bonnie finally, finally, _finally_ decides to slow down.

She doesn’t know how a gentle walk suddenly transformed into a full on gallop, picking up speed like Karin has never known, leaving Ganjuu behind in the fields a long, long time ago — Karin doesn’t know and she doesn’t _care_ because _everything is awful_ and she never _ever_ wants to ride a boar again in her _life._

Bonnie is galloping like her life depends on it, and Karin doesn’t understand _why._ The wind is unrelenting on her face and even though everything is a blur, Karin is certain that they must have entered the districts at some point, but that doesn’t matter right now because the only thing that matters is that Karin wants Bonnie to _stop._

Maybe she’s screaming those exact words. Maybe Bonnie has just read her mind. Maybe Bonnie has finally exhausted herself.

Whatever the case, one moment Karin is holding tightly onto the reins, and then the next thing Karin knows is that she’s flying.

Soaring in the sky.

Karin doesn’t remember landing, but she is without a doubt, one hundred percent certain, that it was anything but graceful.

_Fuck._

 

 

Ouch.

“Karin?”

She groans, some vague affirmation that she heard them. Karin. That’s her name alright. Kurosaki Karin. Don’t wear it out.

“Karin?”

Weird. There’s something familiar about that voice, but she can’t place it.

“What?” Karin mumbles, grogginess clinging to her as she tries to think.

She knows that voice. She knows she does. But _fuck_ , her head is spinning and her thoughts are too slippery to form, fading before she has the chance to connect the dots.

“Can you open your eyes?”

She doesn’t want to, is the thing. She’d much rather stay sprawled on the ground with her mind murky until she figures out just _who_ that voice reminds her of. Opening her eyes would be the easy way out, and Karin wants to take a wild stab in the dark first.

“Please?”

Nope. Fuck it. She can’t think of anyone, and gives up guessing.

“’m okay,” Karin mumbles, eyelashes fluttering open, only for her to recoil at the brightness of the light. She hisses, not expecting that, not expecting for her ears to start ringing. But Karin takes a breath. Tries to open her eyes again, vision sharpening into focus —

_What the fuck is he doing here?_

Her heart pounds in her constricting chest, with all the force of an unwieldy jackhammer. Words fail her as she stares at him, eyes wide and unable look away, breath caught as she slowly sits up. Pinpricks of pain flicker through her as her knuckles tighten, pushing against the ground, but Karin barely registers it.

Nothing feels quite real, and yet, she does not doubt it’s actually him.

 _What the fuck_ —

“I am not marrying you,” Karin says instead.

“No, of cour — obv — _what?”_ Hitsugaya Toushirou says, eyes just as blue and intense as Karin remembers, even as confusion creases over his features. “What did you say?”

_Shit._

“Nothing. You must have heard wrong. I didn’t say anything,” Karin backpedals instantly, dizzy with embarrassment, dazed by the crash. Heat crawls uncomfortably up her neck, as she tries to stall and instantly forget that she’d ever say such a ridiculous thing — _to him!_ — of all people! Karin didn’t care how it happened, she was going to blot those words out from her memory if it was the last thing she did. “I didn’t say _anything!”_

_Shit!_

This isn’t how their next meeting was supposed to go.

They weren’t supposed to _ever_ meet again, because Karin refused to see him and Karin doesn’t want to be anywhere _near_ him —

_But._

In the rare, one in a million, against all odds, chance that they _were_ supposed to meet — Karin did _not_ want it to have gone like this.

_Fuck._

“Been a long time,” Karin says, desperate not to let panic show on her face, mildly aware that it was probably a battle she had already lost. She aims for nonchalance, it falls flat.

“It has,” Hitsugaya says, equally as eager as her to move past it and ignore that she even said such a silly thing at all.

Silence.

“…. hi,” Karin says, wary.

“… hi,” Hitsugaya echoes back, hesitating before he replies.

One heartbeat.

Then two.

“What… what are you doing here?” Karin asks, stiltedly, sliding her gaze away. It’s difficult to look at him. Not when her head hurts, and something uncomfortable prickles in her chest, and she wants to run far, far away from him.

For his part, it seems like Hitsugaya seems to have turned away as well, so he doesn’t look directly at her either.

He stays silent for a really long time.

“I was visiting Baa-chan,” he says, tone oddly careful. There’s something about how he says it that feels strange to listen to. Like it lacks something, but Karin can’t recall what it might be. “She happens to live nearby.”

“Oh.”

“I heard someone screaming, and decided to investigate. Turned out it was you,” Hitsugaya continues, tone indecipherable, and though Karin continues to not look at him, she can _feel_ him gazing intently at her. “Do you remember what happened?”

Karin is silent.

She wants to shove him away and tell him to leave her alone. Hell, she’d _do_ it if only she didn’t feel so woozy and distracted by the fact that ever since she regained consciousness her surroundings had _not_ stop spinning, and that is causing her all kinds of curious sensations —

“Karin?”

“What?” Karin snaps, startled, surprised at the volume of her voice. “Did you say something?”

“Do you remember what happened?” Hitsugaya asks, patient, his voice so much softer in contrast. A weird detail to notice, but, still. “Focus, Karin. How did this happen?”

“Um,” Karin blinks owlishly at him, thoughts disintegrating, while she tries to do her best to comply. Focus, focus. How did it happen?

It would be easier if her head didn’t feel so blank. No, not _blank_. Murky, perhaps? She keeps trying to remember, but it’s like the information is stuck in some sort of haze, making it difficult for her to access her memories.

She exhales, frustrated.

With effort, the day comes back to her in fragments. Phone call. Breakfast. Boar riding lessons.

_Ah._

“Karin?” Hitsugaya prompts, noticing her cringe.

“… _Bonnie_ ,” Karin admits, her ego bruised, if not outright murdered. She’s going to kill Ganjuu as soon as she sees him.

“Bonnie?” He repeats, confused. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, Karin.”

She tries. Her gaze flicks to him, but it’s more like she’s looking through him than at him. Attention wandering after a couple of seconds.

He frowns, but says nothing.

“Who’s Bonnie?” Hitsugaya asks eventually. “Karin? Who’s Bonnie?”

“A boar,” Karin answers simply, slowly, feeling like there’s certain dream logic to this situation. Like all she has to do is say Bonnie’s name, and she’s certain that Bonnie the boar will come running. She can’t hear the nimble patter just yet, but she will soon. Any minute now. That’s what usually happens right? If you say someone’s name in a dream, they’ll materialize like an apparition. Sooner or later. She continues, with a lopsided smile, distracted by that tangent. “Ganjuu’s boar. You’ve never seen her? She’s always wearing ribbons and shit. Never goes anywhere without them.”

“Sounds like she’d be impossible not to notice,” he comments. “But no, I’m afraid I’ve never met her.”

“Shame,” Karin says, softly. Talking is nice, for some reason. Talking makes the ringing in her ears fade a little. She blinks, vacantly gazing up to look at the sky.  “It makes her look really cute. But you can’t tell Ganjuu that I said that, okay?”

“Okay,” Toushirou agrees.

“I mean it,” Karin tries to glare, wanting him to take it seriously. Ganjuu can _never_ know. He’d never let her live it down. “You can _never_ tell him.”

“I promise, Karin,” Hitsugaya says.

“Good,” Karin says, satisfied with his response, before turning her attention back to the pale sky. “What are you doing here again?”

He _must_ have told her at some point, but she can’t remember the reason at all.

“Baa-chan lives just around the corner,” Toushirou says, and Karin nods absentmindedly, as if she’d listened intently instead of instantly forgetting his answer again. “I was visiting her when I heard a crash and found you here. You were saying something about Bonnie?”

“Something,” Karin says, furrowing her brow, with difficulty drudging up the events. Something to do with Bonnie. Think, think, _think._ “Right, I was riding her.”

Had she not said that before?

“And then?”

“And then,” Karin nods, encouraged to go on, and then stalls. Her haziness lifts in waves, meeting resistance as a horrible flush of embarrassment develops on her cheeks, the closer Karin gets to recalling what actually happened. She doesn’t want to admit this part — but he _did_ ask. “I lost control, crashed into a wall, and here we are.”

“Here we are,” Toushirou repeats, tone gentle. “How are you feeling?”

The answer for that is immediate.

“Stupid,” Karin grumbles. Stupider than that time she died by eating a fucking _pretzel_ , and that was _really fucking stupid._ She’s angry too. At herself — and at him. Angry that he’s found her, that he’s trying to look after her, that he won’t go away. But no one else is around, and Karin is bitterly aware of it. “Really, really stupid.”

He looks at her like he wants to say something — some pithy remark meant to patronize, perhaps — before he decides against it.

“No broken bones?” Hitsugaya says instead, clearing his throat. “Does anything hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Karin lies.

“Karin.”

A warning sign.

The fact that he of all people is trying to reprimand her vexes her more than anything.

“My head hurts,” Karin grits out, tensing once more as she is determined to avoid his eyes. She doesn’t ask _happy?_ in a spiteful tone, but she comes awful close. She swallows, reluctantly adding. “Feels like everything is… floaty.”

She knows she’s not dreaming, but every now and then, it really feels like she’s like she is, and only Toushirou’s presence is proof that she’s awake. She’s sure he wouldn’t be here otherwise. But then again, nothing is adding up the way it’s supposed to.

“— look really pale,” Toushirou says, Karin barely catching the last part. She must have spaced out at some point. She looks at him, vaguely hoping that he hadn’t noticed. “I think you have a concussion. Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”

“No,” Karin shakes her head. She’s had bouts of dazedness, but not nausea. “Hey, Toushirou?”

“Yeah?”

“… I kinda want to go home now,” Karin says. Ganjuu’s gotta be worried about her, right?

“Yeah, okay,” Toushirou nods, and stands up. He hesitates. “Do you need a hand?”

“I’m okay,” Karin snaps, a surge of irritation coursing through her as she remembers that she’s mad at him, and he has the nerve to _ask._ To prove it, she makes herself stand without his help, and finishes it off with a glare.

A mistake, really, because as soon as she’s up, gravity has other plans for her in mind.

Darkness swims in her vision.

“Whoa!” Hitsugaya says, grabbing her arm lightning fast as she stumbles back, steadying her as Karin eventually regains her balance. He acts as an anchor, his touch a tether to reality; breaking through the dreamlike stupor that has taken hold of her.

Karin stares at her feet.

“What am I going to do about Bonnie?” Karin says, realization dawning, heartbeat thudding. _Shit._ Ganjuu’s going to kill her. Her breathing becomes rapid, shallow, struggling to make it through to her lungs. “Ganjuu —”

“Is probably worried about you than Bonnie right now,” Toushirou interrupts, and Karin looks up at him, strangely hollow inside. Everything feels so watery, shimmering for an instant. “You said it yourself, right? Bonnie is Ganjuu’s boar. That means that she knows the ins and outs of Rukongai far better than you do. He’s more likely to be concerned about you, Karin.”

“Right, that’s a… good point,” Karin says, blinking slowly, nodding as she processes the words, feeling more grounded by his reassurance. She looks at his hand on her arm. “Um. You can let go of me now.”

“Sorry,” Hitsugaya says, apologetic, releasing her.

A beat.

“Okay, well,” Karin says, when it becomes apparent that he can’t take a hint. “Thank you for the help.”

A couple of seconds pass.

“You can go now,” Karin tries again, bluntly. She owes him _some_ gratitude, after all, but they’re still not on good terms. “Goodbye.”

It’s a clear but still polite dismissal.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Karin says, standing her ground, remaining calm and cordial. “I appreciate the concern. You’ve been very helpful. But I’m fine now and I can take it from here.”

He stares at her.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Okay. So much for being cordial and polite.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Karin says, sharply, her temper slowly but certainly rising. She doesn’t appreciate his tone _at all._

“For the love of — Karin, come on,” Hitsugaya huffs, and rolls his eyes, further incensing her. “There’s no way I’m letting you go home by yourself. I’m going with you.”

“You are doing _no_ such thing,” Karin refuses, balking at the thought. It’s bad enough that she’s already spend so much time with him already, and now he’s telling her that she to spend _more?_ “Listen, I would say it’s been nice to see you again — but that would be a lie.”

“Okay, but —”

“You didn’t have to help me, but you did, and that’s kind of you,” Karin interrupts, not interested in what he has to say. “But that doesn’t make up for what you did, and we are still not friends. In case you thought this changes anything. It doesn’t.”

“ _Fine_ , but —”

“Go away!” Karin shouts, unable to stand it any longer. “I don’t want anything to do with you!”

“Well, too bad!” Hitsugaya retorts, an ugly shade of red colouring his cheeks. “You’re hurt so you’re not getting rid of me that easily!”

“Piss off!”

Toushirou takes a deep, deep breath.

That kind of breathing technique is something he usually reserves for Rangiku, Karin notes distantly, and then instantly hates herself for knowing such a stupidly pointless detail about him.

“Which way is your home?” He asks, in a much calmer manner.

Karin blinks at him, thrown off by the question.

“What?” Karin asks. There’s no way she heard that right.

“I’ll leave you alone _if_ you are able to correctly tell me which direction your home is,” Toushirou says, folding his arms across his chest, raising his chin as if to challenge her. “If you get it wrong, however, you let me walk you home.”

Easy, right?

“Okay, sure _,_ ” Karin agrees, feigning confidence, because she would rather die again than admit that she doesn’t have a clue where it is and if luck is in her favour, she’ll be able to guess right and walk back home by herself. She takes a moment before making her decision and points. “It’s that way.”

He shakes his head, smug and obnoxious, and Karin hates him _so much_.

She’d forgotten how infuriating and childish and stubborn he could be.

“No, Karin.”

_Fuck!_

“Fuck,” Karin says.

“We had a deal,” Toushirou reminds her, taking a step in the opposite direction to where she was pointing. “Come on.”

“ _Fine,”_ Karin sighs, frustrated that she has to depend on him yet again. She’ll accept it because she has to, but she’s not happy with him. “But we are _not_ speaking to each other unless it’s _absolutely_ necessary.”

 

 

They walk for half-an-hour, maybe, before an idea strikes, and Karin wonders why she didn’t think of it sooner.

“Hey, Toushirou.”

He looks at her with a guarded expression.

“Are we talking to each other now?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Karin snipes back. “But it’s okay because I have the solution to both our problems! _Shunpo!_ You can take me home in a second, and then I never have to see you again!”

Why didn’t she think of it sooner! It’s quick and easy and takes a couple of seconds at _most._

“You could have said something about it sooner, you know,” Karin says, admonishing him.

“Would you have listened to me if I did?” He asks, acerbic, and Karin refuses to respond to that.

“Will you do it?” Karin shoots back instead.

“If that’s what you want,” Hitsugaya says, expressionless.

“It is,” Karin confirms with a nod.

“Alright,” Toushirou agrees, and then extends his hand to her. When she does nothing but stare at it, he heaves out a sigh. “It’s either take my hand and we’ll be there in a flash, or you don’t and we continue walking. Your choice, Karin.”

It’s the quickest way to get rid of him, Karin knows, and without hesitation for a second, slams her hand into his.

 

 

“Karin-dono!”

That’s… Koganehiko. Karin’s mostly certain.

“Oh _shit,_ ” Karin mutters, instantly letting go of Hitsugaya to slap both of her hands over her mouth. A wave of nausea rises through her, and with a willpower Karin didn’t know she possessed, manages to swallow it back down.

_Shit._

Karin has travelled via _shunpo_ a couple of times and _that_ has never happened before.

“I’m — sorry,” Hitsugaya says, haltingly, eyes wide. “I didn’t think — I shouldn’t have —”

“Save it,” Karin interjects, knowing that she’s fighting a losing battle but she’ll try her damndest to keep it down until he’s gone. _Focus_. “You got me home. Now leave.”

“But —”

“You heard Karin-dono,” Koganehiko says, looming over him, practically a giant in comparison. “ _Go_.”

“… fine,” Hitsugaya sighs, reluctant but clearly about to leave. He turns to go, then looks back at her. “Karin, I’m sorry that you passed away so soon.”

“Noted,” Karin snaps, nausea surging with a vengeance. “Now fuck off.”

He disappears in an instant.

And not a moment too soon, because Karin throws up seconds later, unable to hold it in any longer.

“Sorry,” Karin whispers, feebly, clutching her stomach and feeling absolutely awful. She’s had a horrible day, and throwing up has always made her feel like she’s hit rock bottom. There is no way that the day can get any worse, right?

She hopes that she hasn’t just damned herself.

“Koganehiko,” Karin looks up, clumsily wiping her mouth, full of remorse. “I am so, so sorry.”

“That’s… okay, Karin-dono,” Koganehiko says, after an elongated pause. He gently pats her back, rubbing her shoulders. “You just focus on feeling better. Shiruganehiko can take care of —”

“Karin! There you are!” Ganjuu says, and slowly Karin looks up, blinks at him as he approaches, stunned. “Bon-chan returned home ages back — _whoa_ , the fuck happened to you?”

Before Karin has the chance to make a smart mouthed remark and bite his head off, she vomits again.

 

 

They call Orihime.

Karin doesn’t mind waiting half an hour for her, taking the opportunity to clean herself up, telling Kuukaku bits and bobs as she gradually begins to feel calm again, more lucid and present than she had been for a while. Koganehiko fetches Karin a bowl of water, a rag and a mirror, while Ganjuu makes the call.

There is a lot more blood on her face than she expected.

(To be fair, she didn’t expect _any_ blood on her face.)

“Boar riding,” Karin says dryly, before Orihime asks. “It’s more dangerous than you’d think.”

“That is not true!” Ganjuu disagrees vehemently. “You just weren’t paying proper attention.”

“Well,” Karin shrugs, not in the mood to argue. “Maybe.”

“Ready?” Orihime asks, concern evident in her expression, waiting for Karin to consent before she speaks the incantation. _“Souten Kisshun!”_

“Where were you when I was first riding Bon-chan?” Ganjuu sighs, wistfully, as the healing process happens, and Karin forces herself to stay still. “I got into all sorts of scrapes.”

“I don’t think I was born yet,” Orihime laughs, gently, turning to face him.

“Oh, right,” Ganjuu says. “That tracks.”

It’s over in a couple of minutes. Karin’s healed, just like that.

“Was it fun, Karin-chan?” Orihime asks, softly, and Karin starts and stares at her future sister-in-law, nonplussed. Orihime continues. “Riding Bonnie-chan?”

“Mm,” Karin thinks it over. “When it wasn’t scary, yeah. Yeah, it was, actually.”

Before it had gone to hell, Karin had been having a pretty good time. She could see herself and Clyde riding together in the future.

“Atta girl,” Ganjuu says, clapping her shoulder. “Next time is going to be so much better.”

“Maybe in a couple of days,” Karin says, unconvincingly.

“Come on, you were good, you had fun!” Ganjuu says, cajoling her, not so easily dissuaded. “Don’t let one bad experience ruin boar riding for you.”

“Do you promise never to let Bonnie run off with me like that?” Karin says, archly. “’Cause I do _not_ want to go through that again.”

“Yeah,” Ganjuu snorts, crooking a smile. “’Course.”

“Mm, okay then,” Karin’s shoulders fall, relaxing, before her eyes snap open and she gasps. “Oh _no.”_

“What?” Orihime says,

“I can’t believe that I told Toushirou that I wasn’t going to marry him!” Karin seethes, flush with embarrassment. How could she _say_ that! Even if she was concussed! How! “It’s been two years and _that’s_ the first thing I say?”

(And! _And!_ To top it off, she’d _completely_ forgotten about it by the time she had returned to the Shiba mansion, only to have her memory restored and relive the sheer humiliation of it!)

“Did… did Hitsugaya-san propose?” Orihime asks, bemused, unaware of what had transpired beyond ‘Karin has a concussion and it’s all Bonnie’s fault’. “When did this happen?”

“Nah, I doubt it,” Ganjuu shakes his head, before Karin gets the chance to correct her. “It’s. Well. Karin’s got marriage on the brain.”

“Shut up!” Karin shrieks, burying her head in her hands, cheeks beet red. “Don’t say that!”

“But it’s true,” Kuukaku grins, deciding that now was the perfect time to speak, and Karin despairs because when they work as a tag-team, their antics become absolutely atrocious. “You were asking all sorts of questions about it this morning.”

“Yeah, but not like — I didn’t mean it like that!” Karin shrieks, flustering, shoulders pinching. “Orihime, you have to believe me! It’s not what it sounds like!”

“I’m not sure what’s happening?” Orihime admits, trying to smile despite her confusion. “When did Karin-chan and Hitsugaya-san become friends again?”

“ _Never!_ ” Karin says, incredibly offended by that question. “That is _not_ what happened! Okay?”

Why did this happen to her? Why did he have to be there? Why oh _why_ did Karin say that she didn’t want to be married to Hitsugaya Toushirou in the first place?


	5. Aggravate Azalea

“I mean, can you believe him?” Karin glares, after finishing recounting her story, arms folded tightly over chest as she tries as best as she can to contain her rage, burning bright. “The nerve of that guy!”

“How… dare he?” Yuzu says, more than a little unconvincing in her shared outrage.

Truth be told, she sounds bemused more than anything else, a fact that greatly confuses Karin.

“What?” Karin asks, flatly. “What is it, Yuzu?”

Yuzu sighs.

“It’s… I don’t know,” Yuzu says, brows knitting as she thinks, trying to find the words. “I don’t like him either, Karin-chan, but what was he supposed to do? Leave you while you’re hurt?”

_“Yes, obviously!”_

“Karin-chan,” Yuzu says, tiredly, looking at her with a serious expression, and Karin hates that she knows exactly what she’s going to ask before she’s even said it. “If the positions were reversed —“

“Stop,” Karin interrupts, scowling as she avoids her sister’s gaze. “Please.”

She _did_ help him, okay?

It was Karin who got Goat Face to make sure he was alright while he was unconscious. It was Karin who moved him in from the field to the clinic, while her world was shattered into pieces.

(But they were friends, back then. If only just.)

“If you saw him tomorrow, and he was hurt, would you help him?” Yuzu presses, insistent on hearing Karin’s answer, even if Karin didn’t want to voice it. “Or would you leave him alone?”

“… I’d help him,” Karin admits eventually, the words dislodging from her teeth with difficulty. She tenses, but forces herself to follow through, sighing with displeasure. “I may hate his guts _but._ If he needed my help _that_ badly, and I was the only person — the _only_ one, Yuzu! — that could do something about it, then I’d have no choice, wouldn’t I?”

“That’s what I thought,” Yuzu says, looking at her knowingly, faintly smug at her victory.

Karin  scowls. Those damn Kurosaki genes of hers. Can’t override them as easily as she’d like.

“So, I wouldn’t hold it against him, Karin-chan,” Yuzu continues, swiftly and reasonably, adding. “This one time.”

“But everything else?” Karin checks, arching her brow.

“Entirely deserved,” Yuzu says, simply. Karin is used to Yuzu occasionally acting heartless to their father, but sometimes it still takes her by surprise how fierce Yuzu can be, how cold she has become to her former friend, when she used to be so warm and friendly to him.

But then again, Toushirou had done the unforgiveable.

Not many people did that — so perhaps earning Yuzu’s rare ire was deserved after all.

“I still wish I hadn’t seen him,” Karin frowns, unable to keep the resentfulness out of her voice.

Honestly, she’s disappointed with herself.

Yet again, she’s talking about Hitsugaya Toushirou — she had hoped to avoid even _mentioning_ him since the day she saw him, but she had fumed throughout the week just thinking stray thoughts about him. And so, when the time came for Yuzu to drop by, Karin couldn’t stop herself from talking about the event to Yuzu because she was _still_ so angry at the mere thought of seeing him again.

Yuzu’s visits were meant to be light and fun and comforting, and Karin is ruining everything by being unable to shut up about the horrible thing that happened to her earlier that week.

“I know, but,” Yuzu says, tilting her head, pensive, then sighs, “You can’t change what happened, I’m afraid, Karin-chan. That doesn’t mean you’ll to see him again.”

“I hope not,” Karin shrugs, fidgeting. There was always going to be a chance their paths might meet, right? Since he had family in Rukongai and visited them from time to time? “You never know.”

“He stayed away because you asked him to,” Yuzu reminds her. “He’s not the kind of person to disregard that unless it was absolutely necessary.”

Is he?

Karin had been so sure she’d known what kind of person he was — but that was before he’d lied to her about having a fake older brother and making her a fool.

“I could learn _shunpo_ ,” Karin muses to herself. “Wonder if Ganjuu can teach me.”

“I think I’d rather you’d just take better care of yourself and be more careful,” Yuzu admits, rolling her eyes. Nudging Karin with her shoulder, Yuzu continues. “Orihime-chan won’t always be around to patch you up, you know.”

“I know. I will, I promise,” Karin says carelessly. She’s made that promise a thousand times, whenever she scraped her knees and cut her hands, whenever she’s been slightly too reckless chasing Hollows in Ichigo’s stead. Yuzu smiles wanly, all too aware that somehow, sooner or later, that promise gets broken, no matter how careful Karin tries to be. “ _Anyway_. Enough about that. I shouldn’t have bored you with those details, Yuzu! I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something different — tell me about you! What’s been going on with you?”

Karin perks up, her anger fading as she changes the subject, eager to find out what’s been going on with her sister in the mortal realm.

“Well,” Yuzu begins, shyly, then all of a sudden lighting up. “Jinta-kun asked me out!”

“No way!” Karin blinks, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I knew you two were getting closer, but… he _actually_ asked you out?”

Jinta had always denied it whenever Urahara had made a teasing comment, but his blushing around Yuzu had always spoke volumes, in Karin’s opinion. She’d been content to watch him flail and fluster and enjoy the show, fairly certain that he’d never do anything about it.

Well. Guess he proved her wrong.

“He did!” Yuzu throws her hands up in the air, and if her smile could get any brighter, Karin is certain that she’d be blinded.

“Well, tell me everything!” Karin says, intrigued. “I have to know _exactly_ how it happened!”

 

 

_You don’t have to forgive him._

Karin thinks over those words a lot that night, after been cheered up by Yuzu’s visit. She hates that she can’t get it out of her system, but she will eventually. She did before, she will again. The best thing to do, Karin figures, is to burn herself out, and only then will it fade again into the background.

She had told Rangiku that she couldn’t.

She had told Yuzu that she wouldn’t.

It’s true — Karin can’t and _won’t_ forgive Hitsugaya Toushirou.

It’s not _technically_ a crime to catfish. To assume a false identity and deceive people. She’d looked it up, aware that the laws of the human realm didn’t work the same way as they did in the spiritual realm, but she needed _some_ sort of punishment regardless.

Needed a way to punish him and make him realize how much he’d hurt her.

Eternal hatred would have to do.

Even if she _couldn’t_ avoid him, Karin could still hate him with every fibre of her being, refusing to let bygones be bygones.

She couldn’t manage eternal hatred for her old man, but she would for Hitsugaya.

 

 

The night that Karin’s concussion was healed, Orihime had afterwards pulled her to a side and apologized.

“What do you need to apologize for?” Karin had asked, eyes wide, taken aback by this surprise. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I feel responsible for Hitsugaya-kun’s actions,” Orihime had said, flummoxing Karin until she spoke again. “I spoke to him at Kuchiki-san and Abarai-san’s wedding, and encouraged him to try and renew your friendship. I guess I got caught up in the moment — weddings made me think of new beginnings, and I thought, perhaps, you could have one too, after not talking to each other for two years.”

Even though Karin had died pretty soon after that, she supposes death _sort_ of counted as a new beginning.

New life, new her.

Maybe.

Karin stayed silent until she can think of something nicer to say.

“Oh,” Karin said, mouth parted as she thought back, something coming to surface in her memory. “That might explain it, actually.”

At Orihime’s enquiring look, she continued.

“A week or so after I died, he tried to visit me. But I refused to see him, and so I didn’t see him until today,” Karin recounted with a shrug, and then looks at her with a soft smile. “That’s… no, Orihime, you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

He’d left her alone that time — and well, Karin was glad that he had known how to take a hint back then.

“Are you sure, Karin-chan?”

“Yeah, positive,” Karin reassured her. She could recognise the sweetness in the gesture, even if was misguided and unwanted. Her heart squeezes. Her future sister-in-law _would_ be the one to suggest a proverbial olive branch. She reiterates. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Orihime. _Please_ don’t feel guilty on my account.”

“It’s just — it would be nice if you two could get along again someday, Karin-chan,” Orihime said, and then stopped, aware that she’s treading on delicate ground. All of a sudden, words stumble over themselves as she tries to explain, rabbiting with her hands flailing. “I mean — I understand if you don’t — but he tried really hard — and, um. _Um_.”

Orihime went bright pink, too embarrassed to talk any further.

“Orihime?” Karin prompted, gently, quietly steeling herself.

“He’s invited to my wedding,” Orihime said, taking a deep breath, the words more coherent after she’d paused to think about what she wanted to say. “And I’m sure he won’t do the same thing he did in Kuchiki-san and Abarai-san’s wedding —”

“What?” Karin blinked, caught off-guard. She’d selectively put the first part on hold because the second part sounded much more ominous. “What _thing?_ ”

“Ichigo-kun didn’t tell you?” Orihime asked, looking like a deer caught in the headlight. Karin shook her head. Her cheeks darkened once more, as her gaze shifted slightly. “Then, maybe I shouldn’t either —”

“Please,” Karin asked, softly, tensing. What terrible and evil misdeed had he done this time? “I have to know, Orihime.”

Their eyes locked, Orihime watching her carefully, curiously, cautiously.

Eventually, she nodded, deflating somewhat.

“Hitsugaya-kun’s brother appeared,” Orihime revealed, in a quiet tone.

“ _What,_ ” Karin said, flatly, emotion void from her entire being before a scorching burst of fury exploded within her, consuming the restraint she previously had. “ _Why?”_

“You would have to talk to Hitsugaya-kun to find out — or Abarai-san or Kuchiki-san! I distinctly remember Kuchiki-san being very happy that Hitsugaya-kun’s brother was invited to the wedding. She got into a huge argument with Ichigo-kun before the wedding about it,” Orihime added hastily. “As to why she invited Hitsugaya-kun’s brother, I really don’t know the details, Karin-chan.”

Orihime still called Rukia ‘Kuchiki-san’.

Karin tried to focus on that, distracting herself.

She remembered asking Orihime why that was — and Orihime had smiled enchantingly, explaining that calling Rukia ‘Abarai-san’ had made her lose her composure, basking in too much happiness, lost in thought that she was now ‘Abarai Rukia’ instead of paying attention to anything else. Orihime had found the whole thing rather sweet, and was content to keep on referring to Rukia by her surname that she preferred to use as a _shinigami_.

“That’s… that’s okay,” Karin managed to say, eventually, still struggling to curb her temper. It’s not Orihime’s fault but —

_What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck was he doing?_

Karin took a deep and calming breath, centring herself. Best to put the information to the side and mull on it later; best to stick to the conversation at hand and let her temper dwindle.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to Rukia and Renji ever since I got here!” Karin admitted, in a falsely bright tone. Her hand curled nervously at the juncture of her neck. “I guess I’ve been a little distracted trying to settle in first.”

As much as she hated to think about Juushirou, Karin _had_ to get to the bottom of this.

“They haven’t dropped by?” Orihime asked, startled by the information.

“Not yet. To be fair, being married probably made them very busy,” Karin admitted, sheepishly. The timing of her death wasn’t particularly great either, so she understood why they hadn’t dropped by sooner. But it had been a couple of months since then, and Kuukaku had shown her where they kept Hell Butterflies, so she figured it was time send them a message. “But I have plans to have lunch with them next week!”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Orihime smiled, teeth pearly. “I’m sure they’re really excited to see you again!”

“Yeah,” Karin agreed, nodding. While she had never been particularly close to either Rukia or Renji, since they were more Ichigo and Orihime’s friends than hers, she still liked them and regarded them highly.

Her smile faded, somewhat, returning to an earlier subject.

“Orihime,” Karin began, shoulders stiffening, unsure how to proceed. “Did I hear you correctly, before? Are you really inviting Hitsugaya to your wedding?”

 _Of course Orihime would invite Hitsugaya to her wedding,_ Karin thought, and pushed the thought down.

“I already sent him a save-the-date card,” Orihime answered, faltering, and Karin felt dreadful for being so selfish. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize — I should have thought —”

“It’s fine,” Karin lied, interrupting. Orihime’s feelings mattered more. “The wedding is Ichi-nii and your big moment. You should invite everyone you want to be there.”

“Save-the-date cards aren’t quite the same thing as wedding invitations, you know,” Orihime pointed out, gazing at her intently. “I already consider you my sister-in-law, Karin-chan. Your happiness matters to me. If you don’t want to see Hitsugaya-kun, then Ichigo-kun and I won’t invite him.”

This is her chance to say _I don’t want to see him_.

_Shit._

Karin stared at her, mouth dry.

Eventually, she found the words to speak.

“You should invite him,” Karin stated firmly, setting her feelings aside as she made her decision. “Just. Um. Don’t put us on the same table?”

 

 

On the negative side, Karin has eight months to prepare to see Hitsugaya again.

On the positive side, it’s not like they _have_ to talk each other. Karin can continue avoiding him like she always has.

Karin doesn’t _want_ to ruin Ichigo and Orihime’s wedding, so if she has to bottle her anger and dig her nails deep into her skin to avoid punching his lights out, then she will.

For their sake.

 

 

Sky’s still blue, Karin tells herself, splashing water over her face. At least there’s that.

She’ll figure it out eventually.

 

 

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Karin is certain that she’d known that Rukia is a noble. It might have been Ichi-nii, it might have been Ganjuu, but she’s pretty certain that someone had told her, in some offhand manner that made it seem like it was no big deal.

That being said, the Shiba estate is _nothing_ compared to the Kuchiki estate.

She had no idea that the living conditions in Soul Society could look like _that._

She spends the first five minutes inside the estate in shock that she nearly misses Renji’s greeting.

“Karin, hey!” Renji says, grinning as Karin turns her head to the sound of his voice. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good,” Karin grins back. There’s something so intrinsically likable about Renji — she always feels like she’s in a better mood as soon she as she sees him. “Getting used to spending time with the other side of family on a more permanent basis these days.”

“Ah, yeah. I heard about that,” Renji grimaces, clucking his tongue before he says. “What a way to go, eh?”

Death by pretzel.

It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, or how often Karin tells herself that she’s over it, the fact that she still gets embarrassed whenever someone brings it up proves otherwise.

“Yeah,” Karin says, non-committal, trying to ignore that flare of emotion that always, _always_ reappears when she’s reminded of how she died. There’s a million ways to die, and she had to die _that_ way. “You could say that. How are you?”

“Never been better,” Renji answers, beaming.

Marriage suits him. There’s always been something relaxed and easy-going about him, but now he just looks like he’s content in a way that he never thought was possible before, and he’s achieved perfect happiness.

Hopefully, marriage for Ichigo and Orihime will be just as fulfilling.

“Is Rukia okay?” Karin asks, scanning the area once again. “Shouldn’t she be here as well?”

“Rukia’s fine, Karin,” Renji assures her. “It just takes a while these days because —”

“I’m here! I’m here!” Rukia calls, her voice heard before she appears a few seconds later. Armed with a graceful smile, she approaches them slowly. “How are Kuukaku and Ganjuu, Karin?”

“They’re doing well. Ganjuu actually got me a boar. Told me it’s some ancient Shiba tradition — holy _shh_ — Rukia, are you _pregnant?”_ Karin halts midsentence the second she notices something different about Rukia and gapes at her.

Lo and behold, there’s a slight but prominent curve to Rukia’s belly.

When she said to Orihime that Rukia and Renji had been busy, she hadn’t thought they had gotten _that_ busy.

“I am,” Rukia confirms, happily, glowing as she gazes at Renji with affection.

“Wow,” Karin whispers, breathless.

Life has gone on.

Yuzu has a boyfriend. Ichigo and Orihime are getting married. Rukia and Renji are having their first child.

And Karin… Karin is just… existing, doing nothing at all. Relearning how to breathe.

“ _Wow_ ,” Karin says again, grinning as she looks at Rukia in amazement, in awe. “Congratulations!”

At that point, Renji decides to announce that Rukia should be _resting_ and sitting down and be comfortable at all times. Rukia fondly rolls her eyes at him, and says that he’s fussing for no reason, but goes along with him anyway, and so they all move to the living room.

 

 

A lot has happened since the last time Karin talked to Renji and Rukia.

For that reason, Karin is genuinely eager to catch up with them, attentively listening to their anecdotes, in turn telling them some of her own. They ask her about life in Rukongai, she asks how far along Rukia is.

Eventually, though, she _has_ to ask.

“Hey, so, Orihime told me something interesting the other day,” Karin begins conversationally, deciding to remain civil and hear them out before she jumps to conclusions. She’s angry, yes, but anger isn’t constructive at the moment, and she wants to understand their reasoning instead of losing her temper at them. “She said that you had invited Juushirou to your wedding?”

They freeze.

Absently, Karin wonders if they had known this question had been coming, dreading it even.

Rukia and Renji look at each other, guiltily.

“It’s true,” Rukia confirms, turning her gaze back to Karin. “We did.”

“Didn’t Ichi-nii tell you what happened?” Karin asks, flatly, anger seeping through despite herself. “Didn’t _I?”_

“Yes,” Rukia nods, sombre. She sighs. “We wanted to believe you, but you forget, we’d also met Juushirou ourselves. We thought there was no way Captain Hitsugaya would have gone along with it for so long. Surely he would have admitted to it to us instead?”

Anyone would it hard to accept, Karin knows. If he hadn’t fainted in front of her, would she have believed that he was capable of doing such a thing?

Still, Ichi-nii was Rukia’s best friend. Didn’t that count for _anything?_

“We had our doubts,” Rukia continued, quietly. “Unfortunately, Nii-sama was instrumental in making believe that there must be some mistake on Ichigo’s part and Captain Hitsugaya’s older brother had to be real because all three of us were witnesses to his existence.”

“But —” Karin starts and stops, dropping her jaw. _What the fuck._

Karin has never _met_ Rukia’s older brother, but _still_.

“Why would he —”

“When the… rumours about Captain Hitsugaya’s older brother began,” Renji says, distinctly uncomfortable, scratching his ear. “It turns out that he contributed a fair share of his own.”

“Nii-sama told us that he was best friends with Captain Hitsugaya’s brother,” Rukia reports. “We’d seen them together during the war, so for them to have become friends made sense.”

“And then as Momo told us what kind of person Juushirou was, he _still_ insisted that they were kindred spirits, and by then, it was impossible to question it,” Renji reveals. He catches Karin expression and shrugs, helpless. “Trust me, Karin; Captain Kuchiki is the _last_ person you’d expect to be in on it the whole time. I couldn’t believe that he’d known the whole time, or that he even had it in him.”

“Don’t forget the poetry,” Rukia chimes in, and Karin’s eyebrows rise higher and higher.

Just what kind of person _is_ Rukia’s brother?

“The _what_ now?” Karin blinks. This tale just keeps on getting more bizarre by the second, and she thought her side of the story was bonkers already. “Poetry?”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Renji snaps his fingers, chuckling. “Can’t believe I forgot about that. It was a specific type too. What was it, Rukia?”

“Haiku,” Rukia supplies.

“What does _haiku_ have to do with Juushirou?” Karin asks, a question she never thought she’d have to utter.

“Well, it turns out that Captain Kuchiki and Captain Hitsugaya’s brother shared an affinity for it,” Renji explains, folding his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah. He amassed _quite_ the poetry collection from Juushirou over the years. Read them out to us every dinner.”

“Nii-sama did not!” Rukia denies, cheeks reddening. “ _Renji!”_

“Alright, fine, he didn’t,” Renji smirks, as he relents, and Rukia narrows her eyes at him. “But he _was_ committed to keeping the pretence up. As much as we wanted to believe you and Ichigo, Captain Kuchiki had made a compelling case as well.”

Who do you believe in that situation?

Your best friend or your brother?

_Fuck._

“Still, it’s not like Ichigo to lie, so… we thought it best to invite him to the wedding,” Rukia says. “That way we could find out once and for all if Captain Hitsugaya’s brother _did_ exist. He turned up, talked with us, and left soon after.”

“Well, that convinced us,” Renji says. “We asked for proof, and he gave it. We thought the matter was settled.”

“I was most displeased with Nii-sama after the truth was revealed,” Rukia assures her. “You have my word on that.”

“How did you find out?” Karin asks, trying her best to stay neutral.

“Captain Hitsugaya told us, after our honeymoon,” Renji admits, bashful. “He apologized for the misunderstanding. Then we apologized for accidentally starting the whole thing in the first place.”

“If I hadn’t immediately jumped to the conclusion that the person who looked like an older Captain Hitsugaya must obviously be his big brother — and then told everyone that we’d met him and he’d helped out during the war — none of this would have happened,” Rukia pauses, and looks at Karin with sorrow. “Your friendship with him would not have ended.”

But it did, and it had.

“That’s not your fault,” Karin says, sincerely. She holds nothing against them because they believed that it was true. She remembers the day Rukia had excitedly told Karin about him, and Karin had wondered why Toushirou had never mentioned him before. She remembers the day she met Juushirou, and excitedly told Rukia her own encounter with him, and how cool and amazing she had thought him to be. They were all under the mistaken belief that Hitsugaya Juushirou was a real person. “You couldn’t have known that it was all a lie.”

How could they?

Toushirou never told them otherwise until much later.

Rukia and Renji may have been the _catalyst_ for the events that followed, but Toushirou chose to go along with it. Toushirou had ample time to reveal the truth, but didn’t.

He made that choice.

He deserves the consequences for his actions.

At least he told them, though, Karin notes bitterly. He may have been years too late, but he did it.

“I guess,” Renji shrugs. “Ichigo couldn’t stop smirking when we told him that he was right.”

“Yeah, well,” Karin says. “He did tell you so.”

“Still, I’m sorry it turned out the way it did,” Rukia sighs, dwelling on the moment.

“It wasn’t all bad, though,” Renji points out, surprisingly optimistic. “At least we got some pretty sweet wedding photos out of it.”

“Did you now?” Karin says, her voice like ground glass.

 

 

Everyone on Seireitei knows the truth.

It doesn’t make Karin feel any better.

To them, Karin gleans from her conversation with Rukia and Renji and Rangiku, Hitsugaya Juushirou had been this borderline mythic figure, built on rumours and gossip and came to life because of Rukia and Renji, culminating in celebrating their wedding with an actual appearance.

Nobody in Seireitei had gotten to know him like Karin had.

When Hitsugaya revealed that it was a prank — for everyone to learn not to believe rumours quite so quickly — of course there was no backlash, no fall from grace in people’s opinions, because the whole thing was harmless enough, right?

No one had gotten hurt by it. They looked a little foolish, sure, but ultimately, it was all in the spirit of good fun, right?

Right.

 

 

He’s crueller than she thought he was, Karin realizes resentfully, as she walked home that afternoon. Finding out more about how Hitsugaya behaved when people believed he had a brother and taking advantage of them was shocking, even though it shouldn’t have been.

It was lucky for him that Rukia and Renji could look back on his duplicity with humour, but for Karin, she could only feel humiliation.


End file.
